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THE 

LOST LITTLE LADY 




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“You’ve teared your coat again, Johnny Clancey !” 




THE 

LOST LITTLE LADY 


BY 

EMILIE BENSON KNIFE 
ARTHUR ALDEN KNIFE 

Authors of “The Lucky Sixpence,” 
“Beatrice of Denewood,** etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
EMILIE BENSON KNIFE 



NEW YORK 
THE CENTURY CO. 
1917 




Copyright, 1917, by 
The Century Co. 


Published, September, 1917 


/ 

OCI "S 1317 

©C!.A476361 

'"VixO I , 


V 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I Miss Eileen's Namesake 3 

II A Little Lost Lady 17 

III Caught in a Crowd 28 

IV A Tight Place 43 

V The Girl with the Diamonds ... 57 

VI Nora Made Prisoner 74 

VII Johnny Goes to the Astor House . . 81 

VIII In a Dark Hallway 95 

IX ‘‘Stop Thief!" ........ 108 

X Nora Asks for a Present . . . .121 

XI A Tea-Party 141 

XII Where is the Ring? 161 

XIII How Bebee Met the Duke . . . . 173 

XIV A Strange Man with a Hooked Nose 193 

XV Bebee Decides to go to School . . .211 

XVI A Letter with a Coat of Arms . . . 225 

XVII In the Knickerbocker Kitchen . . 245 

XVHI Tea-Leaves and Prophecies .... 256 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XIX The Mysterious Mr. Hitchens . . . 278 

XX Oysters and Red Balloons * • . . 289 

XXI A Spy in the Astor House .... 301 
XXII Fire! Fire! 316 

XXIII A Chain of Circumstances .... 334 

XXIV Bebee Disappears 346 

XXV The Little Lady is Found . . . . 364 

XXVI Mr. Walker Explains 377 

XXVII A Traitor and a Renegade .... 387 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


'‘You Ve teared your coat again, Johnny ^ 

Clancey!” Frontispiece ^ 

“I shan’t let you do it,” she cried • • • • 39 

“I ’m wanting just one little slave” . . . . 137 ' ^ 

“I recognized it as the elegant monstrosity you 

had given Nora” 177 

“Mammy ’ll be right heah” 241 

“I ’se sorry to tell you, you won’t get your wish” 267 

“I usually get what I want — or make trouble” . 285 

“Neither of them resembled . . . Bebee or her 
Mammy” 373 


\ \\\ 



THE 

LOST LITTLE LADY 



THE 

LOST LITTLE LADY 


CHAPTER I 

MISS EILEEN'S NAMESAKE 

A t noon, on a bright morning in the summer 
of 1863, the huge doorman of the Astor 
House hurried down to meet a splendid carriage 
just drawing up to the curb in front of the hotel. 

Two boys, who had been sweeping the side- 
walk, speedily spread a strip of red velvet carpet 
across the pavement and up the steps, falling 
over each other in their effort to accomplish this 
task in time. A porter, followed by a bellboy, 
rushed out, taking up positions where they could 
afford instant service, and a bustle of excitement 
seemed to indicate that the occupant of the 
gorgeous equipage was no ordinary mortal. 

3 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

Attracted by these preparations a small crowd 
quickly gathered, to linger for a moment. They 
hoped to see some notability descend, and there 
was a hush of expectancy as the hotel attendant 
opened the door of the carriage, raising his hand 
to his cap in the military fashion, to salute the 
arriving guest. 

'Tt must be another Prince/' whispered a 
dainty lady, in a spreading skirt and purple vel- 
vet mantle. 

''Yes, come to join our army," answered her 
companion. 

Surely, with so much ceremony some distin- 
guished person might have been looked for; but 
instead there stepped forth, amid a murmur of 
surprise, the quaintest little figure imaginable. 

It was a girl thirteen or fourteen years old, 
although she gave the impression of being small 
for her age. Her dress, worn over a wide hoop, 
was of silk in red, white and blue plaid, edged 
with a broad band of red velvet cut into a "Wall 
of Troy" design, below which could be seen hand- 
embroidered pantalettes of fine white muslin. 

4 


MISS EILEEN’S NAMESAKE 


She wore a short sack of red velvet, white stock- 
ings and black silk gaiters, while on her head 
was a pork-pie turban of the national colors, from 
which hung a veil of beautiful lace. 

It was the fashion for the ladies of the North 
to show the Union colors upon all occasions, and 
the only criticism that might be offered, accord- 
ing to the standards of that day, was that the 
small lady’s costume was a trifle too elaborate 
for her years. It was this, perhaps, that gave 
the women who saw her the feeling that the child 
had no mother. 

She stopped for a moment to speak to her 
coachman, and it must be confessed that the face 
disclosed when she lifted her veil, disappointed 
the gaping crowd. The costume was so elabo- 
rate that perhaps they might have been excused 
for expecting to see a beauty. She was far from 
that; yet she had a sweet face in spite of the 
fact that the pink of her smooth, round cheeks 
was spotted with countless big, brown freck- 
les. 

‘Tine feathers don’t always make fine birds,” 
5 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


murmured some one; but the center of the at- 
traction walked on, quite unmindful of the at- 
tention she was receiving. 

Though she seemed to be looking neither to 
the right nor the left, she had hardly taken half 
a dozen steps when she stopped and pointed an 
accusing finger at a newsboy, standing with the 
others at the edge of the red velvet carpet. 

‘‘You ’ve teared your coat again, Johnny 
Clancy she exclaimed reproachfully. Then 
hastily correcting herself, “I mean you Ve torn 
your coat — but it 's just as bad.’’ 

“Oh, now ! Miss Nora !” replied the boy, wrig- 
gling with embarrassment, “ ’t is just nothing at 
all. The least bit of a hole that no one but you 
would be seein’. Beside, ’t is bad for business to 
look too prosperous.” 

“ ’T is no ways needful to deceive people in 
order to grow rich,” replied Nora sternly. “Up 
you march and take that coat off till I mend it. 
And no back talk about it, Johnny Clancy,” and 
she indicated the entrance with a small finger. 

Johnny hesitated for a moment, and then bolted 
6 


MISS EILEEN’S NAMESAKE 

for the door, while the little girl followed more 
sedately. 

Scarcely had she entered when a short, thick- 
set man, very lame in one leg, limped up to the 
carriage and spoke to the coachman, who touched 
his hat respectfully. 

‘'What was she sayin’ to ye, William?” he 
asked. 

“ T was about my Rosie, sir,” the man an- 
swered, with some embarrassment. “The child ’s 
been sick. Not dangerous, ye mind, but ailin’ 
like, and Miss Nora said somethin’ of me 
stayin’ home this afternoon, though ’t is in no 
wise necessary and I can come for ye, Mr. O’Neil, 
as easy as not.” 

“She gave ye orders, did she not, William?” 
asked Mr. O’Neil, a little grimly. 

“Faith, she did order me, and that’s a fact, 
but—” 

“There ’s no use of 'buts,’ William Kerrigan,” 
Mr. O’Neil cut in; “I advise ye, if you want to 
hold your job, to obey the orders Miss Eleanor 
gives ye, nor mind who is inconvenienced.” 

7 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘"Yes, sir/' said William, touching his hat once 
more. 

‘‘And, William,’’ Mr. O’Neil went on, a merry 
twinkle coming into his eye, ‘‘is n’t she the fine 
lady?” 

“Aye, that she is,” answered William feelingly; 
“and the tenderest heart she has for sufferin’, 
no matter where ’tis found. ‘A little mother,’ 
is what I call her, sir.” 

Mr. O’Neil nodded approvingly. • 

“She ’d take care of anything from a sick cat 
to her own father,” he said, half to himself. 
“Well, go ye home to your little Rosie and stay 
there. We ’ll not be needin’ ye this afternoon,” 
and, to avoid William’s thanks, he limped rapidly 
into the hotel. 

Mr. O’Neil was delayed in the lobby, but he 
reached his own parlor just in time to see his 
daughter bite off her thread. 

“Here’s your coat, Johnny Clancy,” she re- 
marked, handing the garment to the newsboy. 
“A stitch in time saves nine,” as the sayin’ is; 
but hereafter, be mindin’ to bring me your tears 
8 


MISS EILEEN’S NAMESAKE 

before the hole is big enough to put your head 
through/’ 

Just then she caught sight of her father stand- 
ing on the threshold. 

‘‘Oh, Daddy!” she cried, jumping up and 
throwing herself upon him, “you ’re home early.” 

“Aye, in time to catch ye,” he declared mean- 
ingly, glancing at Johnny Clancy, who, with a 
grin of embarrassment, slipped out of the room. 

“What have I been doin’ now?” asked Nora, 
with a perplexed frown. “Oh, I know. I bit 
my thread. Well, I ’ll try not to do it again. 
Daddy; but I’ve so much to remember! One 
does n’t learn to be a great lady all in a minute.” 

“ ’T is not the thread at all, at all, I was 
meanin’,” said her father. “ ’T is Johnny 
Clancy’s coat. What call have ye to wait on the 
likes of him?” 

“Now, Daddy, what harm can there be in me 
mendin’ a bit of a hole for the boy?” Nora de- 
manded. “You would n’t want him to run rag- 
ged? But come, take off your own coat and 
make yourself easy,” she went on, standing on 
9 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


tiptoe and pulling at the long frock coat her father 
wore. ‘‘ T is seldom I have ye to meself, and I 
mean to take some comfort in ye now you’re 
here.” 

'‘Ye ’re getting away from the subject,” Mr. 
O’Neil insisted, as he submitted to these atten- 
tions. 'T ’ve no manner of objections to your 
motherin’ all the little ragamuffins in New York; 
but if ye must do light housekeepin’ for Johnny 
Clancy, or any one else, let your French mam’selle 
do the work, and you sit by like a lady and boss 
her. That’s your place.” 

Nora by this time had gently pushed her father 
into the big chair before the fire and had settled 
herself in his lap with a great sigh of content. 

"Oh, ye do be scoldin’ somethin’ awful,” she 
said with a smile. " ’T is the hard-hearted man 
ye are entirely. There ’s times when ye frighten 
me, goin’ on like this,” and she wriggled closer 
in the strong arms that encircled her. 

"Ye ’re try in’ to put me off, and I ’ll not have 
it,” said Mr. O’Neil, with a broad grin on his 
face as he looked down on the child with eyes 
10 


MISS EILEEN’S NAMESAKE 

full of love. ‘'Ye know I right in what I ’m 
sayin’, and — ” 

“I suppose you are,” agreed Nora, her face 
sobering as she gazed into the fire. “I suppose 
you are — but ’t is when you were a boy I want 
to talk of. Do ye mind Miss Eileen, you Ve told 
me about, back in Belfast ? How she looked after 
ye because ye had no mother, even mendin’ your 
shirt for you, though she was a lady born and 
you but a ragged urchin runnin’ loose in the 
town. Do ye mind ?” 

“That I do,” replied Mr. O’Neil, with a strong 
note of tenderness in his voice. “ ’T was after 
her I named ye; but ’t is far away you ’ve carried 
me from Johnny Clancy.” 

“ ’T is not so far,” answered Nora, with a 
soothing chuckle. “Ye think none the worse of 
Miss Eileen for mendin’ your shirt?” 

“The worse of her !” cried Mr. O’Neil in aston- 
ishment. “Me, that she fed many’s the day. 
The worse of her! And she, an angel from 
Heaven condescendin’ to mend a bit boy’s things 
with her own hands ?’^ 


II 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

^'And what differ is there betwixt that poor 
boy in Belfast and Johnny Clancy in New York?’^ 
asked Nora. ‘'How would you have felt if Miss 
Eileen had said to ye, haughty-like, ‘Tim O’Neil, 
give your shirt to me French mam’selle till she 
sews the rip in it’? Daddy dear,” she went on, 
leaning back in his arms, “do ye think I ’d be 
humiliatin’ Johnny Clancy by showin’ I was too 
good to do his bit of mendin’ meself ?” 

“Nora, me darlin’,” said Mr. O’Neil after a 
pause, “ ’t is a just rebuke to the pride I take in 
ye, I suppose; but ye ’re all I have in the world 
and ’t is savin’ ye every bit of work and worry 
I ’m thinkin’ of mostly. ’T is your own way ye ’ll 
be havin’, and I ’m not sayin’ it is n’t a good way, 
neither, though ’t is laughable the care ye take 
of them that ’s paid to care for you. There ’s 
William, now, sent off for the day, and I ’ve no 
doubt ye ’ve dismissed your grand French mam’- 
selle.” 

Nora nodded demurely, with a smile around 
the corners of her mouth. 


12 


MISS EILEEN’S NAMESAKE 

'"Her old mother does be grievin’ without her,” 
she remarked, ‘'and I get tired of havin’ her 
always under foot. I can’t be forever learnin’ 
somethin’. When I come home from me fine 
school I ’m thinkin’ I ’m like a pitcher that ’s full. 
If ye pour more in, it but slops over. Sure 
’t would be a pity to be wastin’ Mam’selle’s 
beautiful French.” 

“ ’T is a pity to be wastin’ good wages on them 
that doesn’t earn them,” Mr. O’Neil asserted 
with a sly glance at his daughter. 

“Faith ! ’t is the stingy man ye ’d have me be- 
lieve ye,” she answered. “Because we pay wages 
must we stop havin’ human feelings? And what 
call have you to talk like this ? ’T is notorious 
the way ye spoil them that works for you, with 
extra pay if they make a poor mouth over any- 
thing, while the tips ye give the help in the hotel 
is a scandal.” Then, wishing to change the sub- 
ject and knowing one thing in which her father’s 
interest never flagged, Nora said: “Tell me 
about the war. Daddy, I never quite forget it since 

13 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

all the soldiers stopped here, and I Ve not seen a 
paper in days/’ ^ 

’T is a horrible thing, is war,” he returned 
gravely. ‘‘ ’T is little ye know about it up here, 
and for your sake I ’m glad ’t is so. ’T is a 
grand gineral the rebels is got in Robert E. Lee, 
an’ a grand man, too. He licked Hooker at 
Chancellorsville, fair and square, for he had 
fewer men ; and my idea of what he ’s after now 
is the capture of some big city up North, like 
Philadelphia, so ’s to be able to force the Federal 
Government to recognize the independence of the 
Confederate States.” 

‘"Huh,” said Nora, ‘^if that ’s what they want 
I ’d give it to ’em, and good riddance.” 

‘"No,” answered her father, ‘'that ’s what we 

1 On the outbreak of the war in the spring of i86i, the Sixth 
Massachusetts regiment, passing through the city, were offered 
breakfast at the Astor House. An immense crowd assembled, 
and when the soldiers appeared after the meal, they were greeted 
by a death-like silence. This was broken by a few bars of 
“Yankee Doodle” as the New Englanders took up their march. 
Presumably, the band carried the tune to the end; but it was 
drowned in the terrific volume of cheers which burst from the 
multitude — “an astounding roar of appreciation which no one who 
heard it ever forgot.” — E. B. K. 


14 


MISS EILEEN’S NAMESAKE 

can’t do. 'United we stand,’ divided we ’d fall, 
— or be gobbled up by some foreign country that 
was jealous of our riches. ’T is for their good as 
well as our own, as they ’ll see some day.” 

"But suppose General Lee takes Philadelphia?” 
asked Nora, reverting to an idea that had startled 
her a little, for Philadelphia seemed very 
near. 

"I dunno,” replied her father. "I dunno — ^but 
I ’m thinkin’ in that case I ’ll send ye to see the 
sights of Boston. ’T is a fine educational city, 
I ’m told.” 

"Now, Daddy,” said Nora, positively, "I ’m not 
going away from you. Sure the Johnny Rebs 
isn’t cannibals — they won’t eat me. And per- 
haps our own soldiers will beat them.” 

"I dunno,” her father repeated again. "I 
dunno can they ? We ’re short o’ men. What we 
lack ’s conscription. They ’ve had it in the South 
all along, and we ’re cornin’ to it. If he had but 
the troops he needs, that quare little man in front 
of Vicksburg might show their fancy soldiers a 
thing or two. Every man who ’s able should 

15 


. THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

serve at the front. Then we 'd soon beat ’em, 
an’ an end to it.” 

At that moment a knock at the door interrupted 
their conversation. 

‘^A lady in the parlor to see ye, sir,” the bellboy 
announced. *^Sure I knew she was a lady the 
minute I set me two eyes on her, but she insists 
I must tell ye she is one.” 

‘‘Show her up,” answered Mr. O’Neil, and he 
hastened to get into his coat to receive his un- 
known visitor. 


CHAPTER II 

A LITTLE LOST LADY 

I T was a very grand and stately lady who was 
ushered into the O’Neils* parlor. She was 
quite short, but this in no way detracted from 
her dignity, and she walked very erect, carry- 
ing a small Blenheim spaniel, at the sight of 
which Nora almost forgot to make her curtsey. 

'T Ve been sent to you, Mr. O’Neil,” she began 
at once, ‘‘because no one else seems to be able 
to do anything for me.” It was clear as soon 
as she spoke that the newcomer was a compatriot 
of Mr. O’Neil’s. 

“Won’t you be seated, ma’am?” he replied. 
“Anything I can do for a country-woman will 
be a pleasure,” he added gallantly. To which 
the lady made a slight bow of acknowledgment 
as she took the offered chair. 


17 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


Nora, her attention fastened on the dog, 
stepped forward. 

‘‘May I pat him?’' she asked, with a smile 
for the visitor. 

“If he will let you,” the lady answered. 

“Ah, but is n’t he the tiny scrap,” said Nora, 
half aloud, as she smoothed the little animal, 
which showed plainly that he liked it and strug- 
gled in his mistress’s arms as if he wanted to 
go to his new-found friend. 

“Will he come to me?” asked Nora, and for 
answer the lady gave the dog to her. 

“Sure, that ’s the first time I ever saw the Duke 
take an interest in any one beside myself,” she 
remarked, looking intently at Nora through a 
glass held to her eyes. “But,” she went on, turn- 
ing to Mr. O’Neil, “let me return to the affair I 
came on. This war is seriously interfering with 
most important business of mine. I want to 
know when you will stop it?” 

“Is it me, stop the war?” exclaimed Mr. O'Neil. 
“Faith, it would have stopped before it began 
if I ’d had my way. But there ’s no man, North 

i8 


A LITTLE LOST LADY 
nor South, can tell you now when it will end/’ 

'"You do not realize, probably, how great an 
inconvenience it is to me,” the lady continued 
in a long-sufifering tone. '"No one seems to have 
any time except for their own affairs; but I have 
been advised to appeal to you because of your 
influence in various directions.” 

‘T will be delighted to help you, if ’t is in me 
power,” said Mr. O’Neil. 

‘Then I ’ll begin my tale at once,” the lady 
said, in a very business-like way. “You must 
know that some years ago my niece married a 
man by the name of Patrick Cochrane, who 
turned out to be something of a scapegrace. 
Well, to make a long story short, they were not 
happy together, and at last he took himself off 
secretly, and their little girl with him. We have 
not seen her from that day to this.” 

“Ah, the poor mother,” sighed Nora. “It must 
have nigh broken her heart.” 

“You may well say that,” agreed the lady. “It 
almost broke all our hearts. A sweeter, prettier 
baby than little Patricia you never saw.” 

19 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

‘What did she look like?’’ asked Nora, deeply 
interested. 

“She was dark like a Spaniard, with great, 
wide eyes and a mass of black hair that would 
be the envy of a woman grown — and in the five 
years since we Ve never so much as come on a 
trace of her.” 

“ ’T is a sad tale,” Mr. O’Neil interrupted, 
shaking his head mournfully. 

“About two months ago there came a letter 
from America,” the lady continued, “sent by this 
scamp of a husband. He said he must fight in 
the war here, and that he had left the little girl 
in the care of a Mr. Dennis Burke, of Carstairs, 
in the State of Georgia, wherever that may be. 
Immediately I wrote to this person asking him 
to bring the child to New York to meet me, and 
then sailed for this country. But no word have 
I had from the man, and I tell you truly I am 
at my wit’s end.” 

“Humph!” grunted Mr. O’Neil. “You’ll 
pardon me, ma’am, but may I be askin’ your 
name?” 


20 


A LITTLE LOST LADY 


‘‘Of course! Of course! I am Lady Castle- 
ton of Belfast and — ’’ 

Mr. O’Neil rose to his feet with an exclama- 
tion of surprise. 

“Not of the Castle on the hill?” he asked 
almost breathlessly, stooping toward the lady 
with much concern. 

“The very place,” she answered. “I see you 
know it, though I do not recall you.” 

“You would n’t, me lady,” replied Mr. O’Neil. 
“But who is the niece you talk of? This Mrs. 
Cochrane? What was her name before marri- 
age. I ’m fair tremblin’ for your answer.” 

“She was Eileen Desmond before her marri- 
age,” said Lady Castleton, surprised at his 
agitation. 

“I knew it! I knew it!” cried Mr. O’Neil, sit- 
ting down in his chair heavily. “ ’T is my Miss 
Eileen,” he went on to his daughter, excitedly. 
“We were speakin’ of her scarce a minute past. 
And has she lost her only child? Aye, my, but 
that ’s the sad news. Ye did well to come to 
me,” he continued, turning again to Lady 


21 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
Castleton. ‘Tf the little lady’s above ground, 
I ’ll find her. ’T is no more than I owe her 
mother for her goodness to a homeless boy back 
in Belfast.” 

After this discovery it seemed as if Lady Cas- 
tleton and Mr. O’Neil had become old friends, 
and they talked enthusiastically over plans to 
find the missing child. They concluded that 
Dennis Burke’s failure to bring the little Patricia 
to New York probably indicated that he, as well 
as Patrick Cochrane, was now fighting with the 
Southern army, and Mr. O’Neil did not conceal 
the fact that if this were the case it would 
be difficult to get into communication with 
them. 

‘'But never fear, ma’am,” he assured Lady 
Castleton. “We ’ll find her in the end. I ’ll go 
to Washington and set some of the government 
agents on the track at once.” 

Lady Castleton lived at the fine Fifth Avenue 
Hotel that had recently been built uptown on the 
site of Franconi’s Hippodrome, and when she 
was about to go, Nora asked her, rather hesi- 


22 


A LITTLE LOST LADY 


tatingly, if she knew where a dog like the Duke 
might be bought. 

‘T’m afraid you can’t buy one/’ replied the 
lady kindly. ‘‘He was raised by the Duke, who 
gave him to me. There ’s no other like him on 
this side of the Atlantic, I fancy; but I hope you 
will often come to see him.” 

“Oh, I should be so glad to !” exclaimed Nora, 
and then Lady Castleton took her leave. 

“ ’T would be grand to have a little pet like the 
Duke,” Nora murmured, half to herself, as they 
turned back into their rooms. 

“Don’t be frettin’ about dogs, Nonie dear,” 
said her father, who had caught the drift of her 
words. “There ’s other things in the world be- 
sides dogs.” 

“Aye, there ’s children,” agreed Nora. “Sure, 
I can’t help thinkin’ of poor Miss Eileen, grievin’ 
for her little girl. You ’ll be goin’ away soon, 
I ’m afraid,” she ended, with a break in her voice. 

“My dear, can I do less?” returned Mr. O’Neil. 
“Ye would n’t have me delay lookln^ for the 
child?” 


23 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

‘'No, Daddy, I would n’t,’' she answered 
bravely, “but, oh, if you knew how lonesome I 
am when you ’re gone from me, and — and I had 
been hopin’ you ’d be stayin’ with me for a 
while.” 

Mr. O’Neil gathered her in his arms and set- 
tled himself in his favorite chair before the fire. 

“Ye know, me darlin’, that I ’d never be leavin’ 
ye of me own will,” he said earnestly, “I had 
been thinkin’ we ’d spend a week or two together ; 
but me conscience wouldn’t let me be wastin’ 
time on this business of finding Miss Eileen’s 
baby.” 

“Could n’t ye be writin’ to the people in Wash- 
ington?” Nora asked hopefully. 

“Me dear, ’t would be useless,” her father 
answered. “ ’T is something of a favor I ’m 
wantin’, and they ’ll be sendin’ letters back askin’ 
‘Why?’ a dozen times till I ’d have to go in the 
end. I must talk to a man face to face, and 
the quicker ’t is done the sooner I ’ll be back to 
you.” 

“Will ye be goin’ at once?” asked Nora, a 
24 


A LITTLE LOST LADY 

startled look coming into her face. ^'Sure I 
thought — 

‘T must take the next train, Nonie,” he inter- 
rupted. 'There ’s nothin’ to hold back for, save 
the pain I have in me heart at leavin’ ye, and 
that ’ll be just as bad to-morrow or the next day. 
Besides, ye ’d be the first to want me to do me 
best to find the little lost lady.” 

"Yes, Daddy,” answered Nora. "Yes, ’t is 
right ye should go, and I ’m hopin’ you ’ll find 
her ; but, oh. Daddy, ’t will be a sad Nonie you ’ll 
be leavin’ behind you.” 

Though she tried to be brave, the tears would 
come and she buried her face in his shoulder. 

"Don’t be breakin’ me heart be cryin’,” begged 
her father. "Don’t! Don’t!” and then, struck 
by a sudden remembrance, he put his hand into his 
pocket and drew forth a small package. 

"See, Nonie, I ’ve a surprise for ye, though I 
’most forgot it,” and he took off the wrapper and 
handed her a pink satin case. 

Nora dried her eyes and opened the box with 
a sinking heart. There was nothing to love in 
^5 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


it, only another possession of the sort she was 
overburdened with already. A blaze of light 
greeted her as she lifted the cover. Sparkling in- 
side was a magnificent diamond ring that would 
have been more suitable for Lady Castleton. 

^'Ye ’d never guess what that cost,’’ said her 
father, seeking in vain for the delight he had 
counted on. ‘^Sure the other young ladies at 
your fashionable seminary will be openin’ their 
eyes when they see it, — ^but there ’s nothin’ too 
good for my Nonie.” 

Nora looked at the ring, at a loss to know how 
to show the joy her father expected. It was 
his love for her that prompted him to load her 
with jewels of enormous value and to deck her 
out lavishly in India shawls and expensive dresses 
unsuited to her years. But such things were not 
what she wanted. 

‘Tf I can’t have a dog like the Duke, a common 
gutter cat that I could love would be something!” 
She thought, as she slipped the beautiful ring on 
her finger. 

Aloud she said, with as much enthusiasm as 
26 


A LITTLE LOST LADY 


she could muster : ''Oh, Daddy ! 't is a wonder- 

ful stone indeed ! And I do thank ye for givin’ 
it to me/’ And she reached up and kissed him. 

Nora tried hard to be brave when the time came 
for parting, but at the last she clung to her father 
with a sort of desperation. 

"I hope you find the lost little lady,” she sobbed, 
"but, oh ! I ’ll be so lonely till you come back to 
me.” 

"Nonie dear, ye ’ll tear the heart out of me,” 
said Mr. O’Neil, quite as much upset as his 
daughter, and at last she let him go; but her 
father, for all his tender feelings, could scarcely 
measure the loneliness he was leaving behind him. 

For a long time the child sat in his chair be- 
fore the fire, quite still. Then catching sight of 
the ring shining on her finger, she held it up and 
looked at it for a moment. 

"Oh, Daddy, Daddy,” she murmured, "I know 
ye mean to be good to your little Nonie, but how 
can I love a thing like that ?” And, with a cry of 
real pain, she buried her head in her arms and 
sobbed as if her little heart would break. 


27 


CHAPTER III 


CAUGHT IN A CROWD 

I T was not Mr. O’ Neil's fault that his mother- 
less child led such a lonesome life when he 
was away from her. Everything that he could 
do to lessen her isolation was done, but servants 
of one sort or another could not fill the empty 
place in her heart. Nor could Mr. O’Neil well 
avoid going away from time to time because, so 
long as the war lasted, he was in honor bound to 
fulfil the contracts he had made with the Govern- 
ment. Not that he cared for the money he 
earned. As he had often said to Nora, ‘T ’m 
rich before me time. We Ve more now than we 
can spend.” But he was a staunch Unionist, 
and had it not been for his lameness, due to a 
wound received in the Mexican war, he would 
have been fighting at the front. Debarred from 
that, he was serving the cause in the best way he 
28 


CAUGHT IN A CROWD 

could and from the best of motives. Otherwise 
he would never have left his little daughter. 

He stayed in New York with her whenever 
it was possible, but now and then an official let- 
ter would come to him in a long, blue envelope 
without any stamp. This was usually the signal 
for a hurried departure, so that the sight of it 
always brought a chill to Nora’s loving heart and 
made it doubly disappointing that he should be 
obliged to leave her on this unexpected mission. 

Nora did not make friends easily at the fashion- 
able school to which she went every day in her 
splendid carriage. She had been quick to see 
that there was a difference between herself and 
the other girls. She came among them a 
stranger, without acquaintances or relatives, and 
while many of her classmates tried to draw her 
out, she was shy with those of her own age and 
unconsciously repelled their advances. Thus it 
was that, when her father was forced to leave 
her, she lived from week to week thinking only 
of the time when he would be with her again. 

Her Fourth of July was quite spoiled by his 
29 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
absence, but on the sixth, when she opened her 
‘Tribune’’ she gave an exclamation of joy. 

“ T is the best three cents’ worth I ever had 
she cried to Mam’selle, quite forgetting her 
French in her excitement. “And won’t Daddy 
be pleased ! Sure General Meade has won a great 
victory at Gettysburg, and I won’t have to go to 
Boston and never see the Duke again !” 

For in the days that had followed Mr. O’Neil’s 
departure she had made many visits to Lady 
Castleton, taking enormous comfort in the little 
dog who had instinctively understood her loving 
heart from the first. 

One Monday afternoon a little later she told 
the governess that she would not need her as she 
was going to the Fifth Avenue Hotel to pay an- 
other call upon the Duke. And Mam’selle, think- 
ing of course that Nora would use the carriage, 
saw no objection to this arrangement, but, glad 
of the opportunity to spend a few extra hours 
with her old mother, went off without misgivings 
as to her charge’s safety. 

After she was gone, Nora, ever with a 

30 


CAUGHT IN A CROWD 
thought for some one else, remembered that there 
was a new baby in the coachman’s household, 
and forthwith sent word to William that she 
would not drive that afternoon. 

She dressed carefully, putting on a fine worked 
muslin over a blue silk slip, for she liked to look 
her best when she went to see Lady Castleton, 
and, as an after-thought, she slipped on the huge 
diamond ring her father had given her just be- 
fore he left. 

She reached the Fifth Avenue Hotel only to 
learn that Lady Castleton was out, and turned 
away far from pleased at the prospect of a long 
and dreary afternoon alone in her rooms. 

'T think I ’ll take a walk,” she said to herself. 
^T wonder could I go as far as the reservoir an’ 
perhaps get some ice-cream at the Croton Cot- 
tage ? Anyway, I ’ll try it, and if I tire I can 
get a stage back. I ’m growin’ as fat as butter 
from always ridin’,” and she stepped off briskly 
up Fifth Avenue. 

Now, as Mr. O’Neil had once hinted to her, the 
Union Army was in great need of soldiers and the 

31 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

Government had, for the first time during the war, 
ordered a draft. This meant that any man of 
suitable age was compelled to serve if his name 
was drawn, unless he paid three hundred dollars 
or obtained a substitute. This arrangement 
caused great discontent among the poorer people 
who could least afford to spend so much money, 
and, in New York especially, there were many 
disturbances.^ 

These drafts had begun on the previous Sat- 
urday and some confusion had resulted, but no 
one suspected that there would be any serious out- 
break, and Nora, walking alone, had never a 
thought of danger and was very happy to be out. 

She was well on her way when she noticed that 
there were but few vehicles on the street and no 
stages at all. 

‘That 's queer,'' she said to herself, “ 't would 
be a fine joke on me if I had to walk all the way 

1 The Draft Riots in New York City lasted for five days and it 
was not until troops, including “The Darling 7th,” made their ap- 
pearance that the mob was controlled. Even then it was necessary 
in one or two instances to use cannon and there were many san- 
guinary encounters between the rioters and the soldiers before quiet 
was restored. — E. B. K. 


32 


CAUGHT IN A CROWD 
home whether I liked it or not. T is just as well 
that no one is waitin’ on — I mean, for me.” 

It never occurred to her that she might turn 
around at any time. She had definitely settled in 
her mind that she would walk till she reached the 
Croton Reservoir at Fortieth Street, so on she 
went, continuing her speculations upon the possi- 
bility of having to trudge all the way home again. 

Above Thirty-sixth Street she noticed that the 
sidewalks were crowded with people. This was 
unusual, for it was well uptown where there were 
no shops. 

"T wonder where it is they ’re all goin’ ? Sure, 
it must be a parade or a regiment cornin’ in from 
the war,” she thought as she pushed on with the 
rest. 

At Thirty-eighth Street, men and boys poured 
into the avenue, shouting loudly and carrying ban- 
ners with ‘‘No Draft” printed upon them in huge 
letters. 

Nora saw at once that this was no parade and 
she felt just a little uncomfortable, for the men 
were hurrying on as if bent upon some violent 
33 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

purpose; but she was not frightened as yet, for 
no one seemed to pay the slightest attention to 
her. 

‘T 'll be at the reservoir in a minute," she told 
herself. ‘Then I 'll slip out into a side street. 
I could n't go down Fifth Avenue with such a 
crowd runnin' into me. I do wonder what it is 
all about." 

But when Nora reached the reservoir she found 
it impossible to turn off as she had intended. At 
Fortieth Street a wild, yelling mob swept into 
Fifth Avenue from both sides, filling the broad 
thoroughfare, and Nora, nigh lifted off her feet, 
was carried with it. She had never been alone 
in such a great crowd before and she began to 
grow really alarmed. Close about her were 
rough men with flushed faces and angry voices, 
who hurried forward in a mighty mass. It was a 
menacing throng, bent upon mischief of some sort, 
and a little girl in the midst of it was in consider- 
able danger. But no one molested her in any way 
and this reassured her in a measure. 

“Sure, I 'll get out of it after a while," she mur- 
34 


CAUGHT IN A CROWD 


mured hopefully, as she swept along. ‘Terhaps 
I can slip away at the next block, and then I 'll 
be runnin' home as fast as I can. 'T is awful 
close," and she shook her shoulders in an effort 
to give herself more room. 

A rough man beside her glanced down and 
seemed surprised to see her there, but he looked 
away again almost immediately, appearing to for- 
get her altogether. 

At Forty- third Street she found that the mob 
had grown so thick that she was wedged in till 
it was almost impossible for her to stir, but the 
forward movement of the throng had stopped. 
The crowd stood still now, packed solidly, rank 
on rank, and wedged tighter and tighter as those 
behind pressed forward. And now their resent- 
ment broke out into words. 

'"Make it hot for the darkies !" was the burden 
of the shouts. ‘‘ 'T is them that is the cause of 
this cruel war ! Burn ! Burn ! Burn !" 

The cry rose to a howl of rage and, like magic, 
countless torches broke into flame. 

The Colored Orphan Asylum between Forty- 
35 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


third and Forty-fourth Streets was the object of 
attack, and before Nora realized what was hap- 
pening, windows were broken, doors burst in, and 
the great house was set on fire in twenty differ- 
ent places. 

‘T don’t know as I like this !” exclaimed a man, 
standing near her. ‘'Sure, the childer do no 
harm.” 

"They grow up, don’t they?” growled another 
man, with a sour look at the first speaker. 

"Don’t worry about the little black tykes,” said 
a third. "They ’ve all been taken out by the back 
door long ago.” 

"I ’m very glad to hear that,” said Nora, to 
herself, as she twisted a little to ease her cramped 
muscles. 

A moment later there came a loud tooting of 
horns and the clatter of the fire apparatus, which 
took its right of way on the sidewalk amid much 
shouting through trumpets, causing the mob to 
surge back. Again Nora was caught up and car- 
ried, this time away from the fire into a side street, 
where, with great good luck, she found shelter 
36 


CAUGHT IN A CROWD 
behind the box around a small tree. Here she 
clung, and as the crowd swept past again in the 
wake of the firemen, she was free to move as she 
pleased. 

Now that she was assured that no one was 
likely to be hurt, she would have liked to stand 
and watch the magnificent spectacle of the up- 
leaping flames, but she dreaded to be caught 
in that panting press, so hastened away from the 
scene as fast as she could. 

Once out of the immediate neighborhood of the 
fire, she bent her steps down town. Around her 
many people stood in groups, talking excitedly and 
watching the flames and smoke that colored the 
sky in more than one quarter, or yelling back 
and forth, ran this way and that as if pursuing 
or pursued. Nora did not like their looks, and 
her one desire now was to be safe home at the 
Astor House. 

Near the ruins of the BulFs Head Hotel, she 
was almost knocked off her feet by a small figure 
which scurried out of the cross street and collided 
with her at the corner. For an instant she faced 
37 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

a little girl whose labored breathing was plainly 
audible; then the child darted across the street 
and tried to conceal herself among some weeds 
growing in a vacant lot. 

Almost immediately a crowd of boys swept up 
to the spot. 

‘Where did she go?” cried one of them. 

“There she is,” shouted another, pointing to 
the bushes, which were too thin to hide the breath- 
less fugitive. 

“Now we Ve got you,” they chorused. “Come 
out till we pull your wool for you.” 

“Who is it?” cried Nora, forgetting herself in 
pity for the hunted creature shuddering behind 
the bush. 

“One of Old Abe Lincoln’s pets,” a boy an- 
swered her, while the chorus again took up its 
threat. 

“Come out of that, you little darky!” 

The small huddled form never stirred. 

“Then we’ll drive you out!” was the next 
shout, and a volley of stones rained upon the 
bushes. 


38 



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CAUGHT IN A CROWD 


‘Tor shame!'’ cried Nora, running up to them. 
‘Tor shame! to be hurtin' a little girl like that. 
Stop it, I- tell you!" 

For a moment the boys looked at her in aston- 
ishment, then the oldest of them walked up to her 
menacingly. 

“Ye 're one of them darky lovers, I 'm thinkin'. 
They're killin’ 'em over on Lexin'ton Avenoo, 
and I guess this one in the bushes will be lucky 
to get off with a few stone bruises. Anyways, 
you go on about your business,” and he reached 
down and took up another stone. 

But Nora, usually the mildest of little maids, 
had in her make-up a hot temper which went with 
her reddish hair and hazel eyes. Moreover, her 
heart had gone out to the poor little child hidden 
in the bushes, and she had no fear of the boys. 
With a bound she planted herself before the one 
who had just spoken. 

“I shan't let you do it,” she cried, facing the 
young ruffian with blazing eyes. “If it were a 
dog I would n't let you, and, darky or no, you 
shan't hurt her.” 


41 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


The smaller boys drew back and the oldest stood 
dumb for a moment, then with a cry of rage he 
lifted his arm. 

^T ’ll show you whether ye ’ll stop me or not !” 
he shouted. 


42 


CHAPTER IV 


A TIGHT PLACE 

N ora was not afraid as she held her ground 
in front of the gang leader who seemed 
about to strike her. She was not thinking of her- 
self at all. Her concern was for the little child 
hidden like a timid animal in the bushes ; but the 
blow did not fall, for even as the boy raised his 
hand, the sound of running feet arrested him. 

^'Hey there! What ye doin’, Micky Dono- 
van ?” came a shout, and the next instant a figure 
bounded in between them. '‘Be the powers if it 
ain’t Miss Nora!” was the astonished exclama- 
tion, and she looked* into the face of Johnny 
Clancy. 

Nora was the first to break the momentary 
silence. 

"Well,” she said, practically, "I ’m glad you ’re 
here, Johnny Clancy, though I can’t say I like the 
43 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
company ye keep. Send ’em off about their busi- 
ness, and leave the child yonder to me.” 

Nora, used to being obeyed, spoke with assur- 
ance; but Johnny Clancy knew the boys he had 
to deal with; morever, he was aware of the un- 
settled condition of the city and the helplessness 
of the police. Micky Donovan and his gang 
were not likely to be easy to handle. 

‘Tt ’s all right, fellers,” he said, more confi- 
dently than he felt. ‘Tt ’s all right ! She ’s 
Irish!” 

‘Then why should she be takin’ up with a 
black?” demanded three or four in chorus. 

“Sure, she ’s tender-hearted,” Johnny answered 
promptly. “And what do we care, so long as 
she’s Irish, hey?” He spoke with a gaiety he 
was far from feeling. 

For a moment there was a disposition on the 
part of the ten or a dozen boys to move to some 
more exciting scene. Several called “Come on,” 
but Micky Donovan had yet to be reckoned with. 

“Stay where ye are,” cried he, and then, ad- 
dressing Johnny, but with a nod toward Nora, 
44 


A TIGHT PLACE 

"Trish or no, she ’s rich, and if she wants a slave 
she can pay for it/' 

This was a pleasing idea to the other boys and 
they came back and pressed closely about the 
three in the center of the little group. 

'Tay — " Johnny began scornfully, but Nora 
cut him short. 

‘'Sure, I can pay!" she exclaimed. Money to 
her was the last consideration. “Sure, I can pay 
— and willing," she went on fumbling in her 
pocket for her purse. Then her face fell. 
“Faith, some one must have robbed me," she mur- 
mured, nervously pulling off her gloves in order 
to search the better. But, with the removal of 
the glove, the ring her father had given her blazed 
out on her finger and Johnny saw Micky Dono- 
van's eyes fasten on it greedily. 

“Never mind the money 1" cried Micky. “Give 
us that,'' and he pointed to the ring. 

“Ah, 't is nothing but paste," laughed Johnny, 
derisively. “Do ye think a slip of a girl like that 
would wear real sparklers?" He hoped to put 
them off but Nora spoiled his plans. 

45 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

‘‘ T is not paste !” she exclaimed indignantly. 
^Think ye Daddy would be givin' me imitations? 
Sure, it came from Tiffany's, and 't is no paste 
they sell. But," she went on, turning to Micky, 
‘T'll not give it to ye, mind that; for 't was a 
present from me father." 

‘Then ye can't have the girl," he answered, 
with a nod toward the bushes where the child 
still crouched. 

‘T 'll give ye a five dollar gold piece, when I 
get back to the hotel," Nora proposed, but the 
leader of the gang shook his head. 

“ 'T is the ring I mean to have," he said threat- 
eningly, and took a step toward her. 

She, seeing the determined look in his face, 
moved back and, for the first time, felt some fear 
for herself. Johnny Clancy was at his wit’s end. 
He knew that Micky Donovan would never be sat- 
isfied now until he obtained the ring. The sight 
of it was like a red rag flaunted before a bull, 
and he could think of no way to save it; for, 
though he was ready to fight as best he could for 
46 


A TIGHT PLACE 

Nora, the odds against him made the outcome 
certain. 

''Come, give up the ring and take your slave,’" 
growled Micky. "Don’t be foolin’ about it any 
longer. We can’t stay here all day.” 

Just then Johnny had an inspiration. With 
pretended alarm he stood on his toes and looked 
up the street. 

"Cheese it !” he shouted at the top of his lungs. 
"Here ’s the peelers !” and without a word he 
turned and ran as fast as he could. 

The suddenness of the cry and the example had 
their effect. In a panic the ragged horde took 
to their heels, disappearing around the nearest 
corner. In almost less time than it takes to tell 
it, Nora found herself alone. 

"Well, was n’t that the mean trick of Johnny 
Clancy’s?” she said, half-aloud. "To go off and 
leave me like that !” But scarcely had she 
uttered the words than the boy was back at her 
side, having hidden in a door-way till the rowdies 
had passed him and then returned with all speed. 

47 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘We must run for it, Miss Nora,’' he panted. 
“They '11 be back fast enough when they find 
there 's not a peeler within a mile. Hurry now !” 

“Fetch the little darky, then,” said Nora. 

“No, she must shift for herself,” answered 
Johnny. “ 'T is our own skins we must think of 
now.” 

“For shame!” said Nora, reproachfully. 
“Would ye leave the little thing to be stoned by a 
parcel of wicked boys? Is it afraid of them ye 
are?” 

“ 'T is not for meself I 'm afraid,” answered 
Johnny truthfully. “If it was only Micky Dono- 
van, I 'd soon show him. But what can I do 
again’ a dozen of ’em. Miss Nora? Come now, 
for I ’m fearful they ’ll be back any minute.” 

“I ’ll not go without the child, and that ’s flat 1” 
cried Nora valiantly. And she crossed the street 
to where the little figure still huddled behind the 
bushes. 

“Come out, dearie,” she whispered. “There ’s 
no one to hurt you now.” 

“Oh, Miss Nora, ye don’t know what ye ’re 
48 


A TIGHT PLACE 

doin’!’’ exclaimed Johnny in despair. '‘The kid 
can find her mommer. She ’s a big, fat woman, 
black as a coal. She could n’t miss her if she 
tried. I saw the start of the fuss on the other 
side of Lexin’ton Avenoo. Her mommer tells 
the girl to run when the boys begins chivyin’ her. 
They ’ll find each other, never fear. ’T is not 
her Micky Donovan will be botherin’ with now, 
but you and your ring. Do come along,” he 
ended pleadingly. "Why should you risk so 
much for a little darky?” 

As he spoke the girl crawled out of the bushes 
and looked up at them. 

"Johnny, you and the boys are wrong entirely,” 
cried Nora. "Her eyes are as blue as violets.” 

"Then there ’s darkies with blue eyes,” an- 
swered Johnny, quite exasperated, expecting 
every moment that the gang would put in an ap- 
pearance. "Anyways, it has naught to do with 
us. We must go, or ’t will be too late.” 

"I ’ve said I ’ll not leave her,” said Nora, posi- 
tively. 

"Then take her, too, — only be quick about it,” 
49 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


Johnny answered, realizing at last that Nora 
would have her way. '"Come on, the both of ye.’’ 

Nora took the strange child’s hand and started 
forward, but the girl hung back, shaking her 
head. 

'T ’m going to find my mammy,” she announced, 
speaking with a decided Southern drawl. 

''But, dearie, the bad boys will catch you if you 
stay,” pleaded Nora, while Johnny looked up and 
down the street apprehensively. 

"I ’m not afraid of the boys,” the little girl 
answered calmly. "I just ran away so they 
would n’t bother Mammy. She ’s too fat to run, 
you know.” 

"You can’t go back!” exclaimed Johnny, al- 
most roughly. "They ’re killin’ the likes of you 
over on Lexin’ton Avenoo.” 

The slim little figure of the girl stiffened and 
she looked at Johnny disdainfully. 

"I don’t know what you mean,” she said, "but 
I must go back to Mammy. No one would dare 
kill her — and I ’m not allowed out on the street 

50 


A TIGHT PLACE 

alone/’ she added as she took a step away from 
them. 

The strange child was nearly as tall as Nora 
but it was apparent that she was much younger. 
A mass of curling black hair fell in disorder about 
her face, and the blue eyes with the long curved 
lashes looked as if framed in ebony. Her 
flushed skin had an olive tone, but her features 
were fine, and her thin, rather long nose, was 
delicately molded. These details Nora took in 
at a glance, thinking she had never seen any one 
so pretty before. The child’s beauty owed noth- 
ing to her clothing. Her dress was faded and 
showed many patches, put on bunglingly with 
coarse thread as if she might have done it her- 
self; yet in spite of her tousled appearance she 
held her head high and had an unmistakable air 
of breeding. 

Nora’s warm heart went out to her at her first 
glance and, as the little figure moved away, she 
put out her hand and grasped the thin arm. 

^'You can’t go alone to look for your mother,” 

51 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
she said, positively. ''Johnny and me — I mean I 
— we 11 take you home.’’ 

"We can’t take her nowhere,” Johnny burst 
out. "I ’ve told you we ’ve got to cut an’ 
run.” 

"The house is burned down where we lived,” 
the child said, without any show of emotion. 
"They threw all the furniture into the street and 
then set fire to the house.” 

"Oh, why did they do that!” exclaimed Nora 
distressed. 

"Because we lived there, I suppose,” the child 
answered, flushing darkly but looking Nora 
squarely in the face. 

"She ’s one of the Orphant ’sylums, as ye might 
have guessed,” Johnny muttered, but neither of 
the girls paid the slightest attention to him. 

"I must go now and find my mammy,” the 
little girl said again. Then, with a slight in- 
clination of her head, as if bidding good-by to old 
friends, she turned to walk up the street. 

Nora was beside her on the instant and Johnny 
followed. They had taken perhaps two steps 

52 


A TIGHT PLACE 


when the boy’s sharp eyes saw a head showing 
around the side of a house at the far corner. 
He knew that red thatch of Mick Donovan’s and, 
realizing that what he had been expecting was 
about to happen, he wasted no further time on 
diplomacy. Nor did he stop to consider the truth 
of his statements. Nora’s ring was a prize that 
would tempt Micky and his gang to greater 
lengths than he cared to think of, and he must 
save Miss Nora. Evidently the only way to get 
these two girls to do as he wished was to appear, 
at least, to give them their own way. 

''Stop!” he whispered to them. "Mick Dono- 
van is up at the next corner. I saw the brick 
top of him and he ’s waitin’ for the rest of the 
gang to come up. Follow me now and run your 
hardest — and as for your mommer,” he went on, 
addressing the strange girl wrathfully, " ’t is out 
of our way, but I ’ll take ye to her if ye but 
hurry.” 

A glad look in the child’s face was all the an- 
swer he needed, and Nora, too, nodded agreement, 
so he set off at a smart run. 

53 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


The girls followed Johnny blindly, and he took 
them a rough road. Through vacant lots 
they tore, crouching down as they came to a 
street and waiting till the boy had looked ahead 
to see that all was safe, then on again amid weeds 
and burdocks that seemed to snatch at them as 
they flew past. Into strange yards and out again, 
climbing fences and jumping pools of water, till 
all three were panting for breath, but Johnny 
would not let them rest and kept urging them to 
greater efforts. 

‘'Sure, Miss Nora, they’re right behind,” he 
declared. “Do ye think they don’t know these 
lots like their own ten toes ? Hurry the best ye 
can.” 

At length Nora stopped with a hand pressed 
to her side, where the pain was greatest. 

“Oh, Johnny,” she gasped. “I can’t go another 
step. Are n’t we most there ?” 

The boy halted and stood beside her, looking 
about him. 

“Miss Nora, we must go on,” he urged 
anxiously. “If you only had n’t let ’em see that 
54 


A TIGHT PLACE 

sparkler they wouldn't have bothered; but now 
they 'll hold on, unless we can lose them." 

Both he and the little stranger seemed quite 
fresh after their moment's rest, and Nora looked 
at them enviously. 

'T is because I 'm such a little puddin'," she 
panted. ‘‘ 'T is spendin' me life in a house or a 
carriage does it. But the pain in me side is easier 
and I 'll do the best I can." 

On they went again, but the halt had lost them 
ground. Now and then they could hear behind 
them the call of one of the gang to another as 
they picked up the trail. Nora uncomplainingly 
exerted herself to the utmost, but her wide skirts 
and ample flounces made running very difficult, 
and at last, tripping over a loose stone, she fell 
prostrate in a thicket of jimson weed. 

The sound of her fall brought the others to a 
stop and Johnny, with a cry of despair, ran back 
and knelt down beside her. She was lying prone, 
with her eyes closed, and he feared she was in- 
jured. 

‘'Are you hurted. Miss Nora?" he asked trem- 

55 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
blingly. She did n’t reply for an instant but con- 
tinued to take in long, deep breaths to ease her 
tired lungs. At last she opened her eyes. 

‘‘No, I ’m not hurt, but I ’m dead beat and 
that ’s a fact. I could n’t run another step if I 
was to die for it. Take the little girl and go on.” 

‘T ’ll do no such thing!” declared Johnny firmly. 
‘T ’ll carry you.” 

‘'Don’t talk foolishness,” gasped Nora. 

“But they ’ll be up with us in a minute,” 
pleaded Johnny; “can’t ye make another try?” 

“Oh, Johnny, don’t ask me,” cried Nora, and 
she closed her eyes again wearily. 

“ ’T is lost we are,” muttered Johnny to him- 
self, “and what the gang will do to us after the 
chase we ’ve led ’em I don’t know.” 


CHAPTER V 

THE GIRL WITH THE DIAMONDS 

J OHNNY stood for a moment looking down 
at the exhausted Nora scarcely knowing 
what to do. He was devoted to her because of 
her many kindnesses to him and he felt keenly the 
responsibility of protecting her. Vindictively he 
eyed the strange girl standing passively beside 
him and blamed her for the trouble they were in. 

^^See what you Ve done he snapped. T is 
all your fault, and you Ye not worth it. Twenty 
of ye would n’t be worth a hair of Miss Nora’s 
head.” In his perplexity he cared little whether 
his words hurt her. Nora was his one and only 
anxiety, and she it was who resented his words. 

'Tor shame, Johnny Clancy,” she exclaimed. 
"Talkin’ that way to a poor little girl.” 

"I don’t mind what he says,” the stranger re- 

57 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


marked coolly. ‘^But I am going back. It ’s me 
they want, and they 'll follow once they see 
me." 

‘T won’t let you," cried Nora, raising up and 
seizing her hand. ‘They might hurt you." 

“They won’t catch me," answered the girl con- 
fidently. “I can run very fast, and now I ’ll have 
a good start." 

“No," said Nora shortly, “I ’ll not have it that 
way." She got to her feet with an effort. 
“Come on." 

But strange to say Johnny was now not so 
eager to go as he had been. Any minute for the 
last five he had expected that Micky Donovan 
and his crowd of roughs would be upon them. 
He was certain that the leaders could not be very 
far behind, and the fact that they had not put 
in an appearance seemed suspicious. 

“What are they up to?" he muttered to himself, 
but Nora caught the words. 

“What are they up to?" she repeated, with a 
quick glance at the boy. 

“ ’T is more than I can guess. Miss Nora," he 
58 


THE GIRL WITH THE DIAMONDS 

whispered in reply. 'They should have been 
here by now. T is queer, indeed, what ’s keepin’ 
them.’’ 

"Perhaps they ’ve lost us,” suggested Nora 
hopefully. 

"No fear,” answered Johnny; "they know 
where we are, all right. But sit ye down here 
and I ’ll be going off to see.” 

A moment later, crouching low, he began to 
worm his way through the bushes. 

Nora turned to the girl beside her and looked 
into the dark face curiously. She felt strongly 
drawn to this self-possessed stranger who looked 
so pathetically babyish. There was something of 
mystery about her that excited Nora’s interest, 
though, at bottom, her feeling was one of com- 
passion. "The poor little thing!” was Nora’s 
thought, as she noted the faded dress and darned 
stockings. Her heart went out to the forlorn 
little figure, and a plan was already forming in 
her mind that held out most wonderful possi- 
bilities. 

"You don’t seem at all afraid,” she said at 
59 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


last, taking the child’s brown hand in her own 
and patting it lovingly. 

‘T ’m wondering where my poor mammy is,” 
answered the little girl, a worried look on her 
face. 'T wish I had n’t run away from her.” 

^'Oh, we ’ll find her,” answered Nora encourag- 
ingly, ‘'don’t you fear.” 

Nora’s impulse was to soothe the child’s anxie- 
ties, even though in her heart she had not great 
confidence that it would be easy to find the old 
negress. 

Just then Johnny came creeping back. 

“ ’T is worse than I thought. Miss Nora,” he 
said, sitting down beside them. 

“What do ye mean?” asked Nora. “How can 
it be worse?” 

“Sure, we ’re surrounded. There ’s no chance 
for us to get away at all, at all,” he answered de- 
spondently. 

“Well, an’ why don’t they come and take us 
then?” asked Nora. “They must know we’re 
here.” 

“They ’re waitin’ for it to get darker,” replied 
6o 


THE GIRL WITH THE DIAMONDS 
Johnny. ‘‘At least that 's the only thing I can 
think of. If we go on, they will drive us into the 
lonely lots, and if we stay where we are, they will 
come when screamin’ won’t do no good. They ’ve 
got us. Miss Nora, and that ’s a fact.” 

“What will we do?” gasped Nora. “I won’t 
let them have the ring, and that’s all there is 
to it. Where are they? Come, they sha’n’t 
scare me. I ’ll face them.” 

“Oh, Miss Nora, what are ye thinkin’ of?” cried 
Johnny in deep dismay. “You don’t know Mick 
Donovan or you’d never be suggestin’ such a 
plan. He ’d take it from you, an’ you strugglin’ 
all you ’d a mind to, an’ the rest of the crowd a- 
holdin’ ye, an’ — an’ — I hate to think of it, an’ you 
that kind-hearted.” Johnny Clancy, well-nigh 
overcome with emotion, let his head hang on his 
breast. 

“If it’s her they’re after,” said the strange 
child with a nod toward Nora, “I ’ll make them 
take me for her, if she ’ll lend me her hat and 
veil.” 

“What do you mean ?” demanded Johnny, and 

6i 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
then as the plan took shape in his head he 
thumped his fist on the ground. 

‘'Oh, the dunce I am,’' he muttered. “Of 
course that '11 do it — and I never thought of it. 
You 're no fool,” he went on addressing the child, 
“if your mommer is a darky,” and he rose to his 
feet with an air of great determination. “Give 
me your hat. Miss Nora.” 

“What for?” asked Nora, not at all catching 
the drift of these last remarks. 

“ T is a chance to save ye,” said, Johnny, ex- 
citedly. “You can find your way to the Harlem 
Station. 'T is in a field near Fortieth Street.” 

“I '11 not be parted from the child,” interrupted 
Nora positively. 

“Ye '11 not need to be!” answered Johnny, ex- 
asperated. “But listen. Give me your hat. 
They '11 have small chance of catchin’ me when 
I’m ofif alone.” 

Nora, quite bewildered, handed him her dainty 
Italian straw flat, with its floating streamers, and 
Johnny set it on his head. 

“When you get to the station,” he went on, 
62 


THE GIRL WITH THE DIAMONDS 

‘^you can take a car through the tunnel to Twen- 
ty-sixth Street and from there you can walk to 
the Fift’ Avenoo Hotel. They ’ll send ye home 
in a coach, sure. An’ here ’s carfare for the two 
of ye. Now do ye understand?” 

''Not a word do I understand,” replied Nora, 
taking the money without argument on that score. 
"How are we to get away from here with all 
those boys waiting for us to make a move?” 

" ’T is me they ’ll be follyin’,” Johnny ex- 
plained. "Seein’ that hat and veil they ’ll be sure 
’t is you, and they ’ll care naught for me or the 
girl.” 

Johnny was about to start when the little 
stranger stopped him. 

"The hat will do while you are in the weeds,” 
she pointed out, "but the minute you cross the 
street they’ll see the trick. You must have a 
dress, too.” 

"Ah, now I can’t be wearin’ girl’s duds,” an- 
swered Johnny. 

"You must,” said the little girl, briefly. 
And without further argument, she took off the 

63 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

worked muslin that Nora wore over her blue silk 
slip and dressed the boy in it. 

Johnny, though he disliked it, submitted with a 
good grace. What the girl said was true enough, 
the trick would soon be discovered unless he 
wore a skirt of some sort. 

^The waist-band is rather tight,’’ said Nora, 
now much interested, ''but the sash will hide 
that.” 

'T wish we had some hoops for him,” the 
stranger suggested anxiously, at which Nora 
could n’t help giggling, though the child was quite 
in earnest. 'T hope the boys won’t notice how 
sleazy he looks.” 

Johnny, ready at length, stopped for one last 
word. 

"You two crawl back near the fence,” he in- 
structed them. "I don’t know will they look for 
you, but you ’d better be careful. When I ’m well 
away, and you ’re rested. Miss Nora, you can go 
on as slow as you like. I ’ll hardly dare come 
back for ye, you understand. ’T would be leadin’ 
the gang to where you was. Now I ’m off.” 

64 


THE GIRL WITH THE DIAMONDS 

Johnny slipped out to the other side of their 
cover, ran along close to the fence and was away 
like the wind, the white overdress showing 
plainly, and the long ribbons on the hat streaming 
out behind. 

Immediately from many points there rose 
shouts of warning. 

‘They Ve separated,'’ came one call. 

“Law ! we can't chase three of 'em," shouted an- 
other. 

“After the girl !" cried a voice that was recog- 
nized as that of the dreaded Micky. 

There was a patter of feet, a crackling of the 
undergrowth and several of the boys ran past the 
two girls crouched in the bushes against the fence. 

“I seen her," said one of them. 

“The rest of us ain't blind," was the retort. 

“Where do you think Johnny Clancy and the 
darky girl went?" 

“Who cares for them?" shouted Micky. “We 
must have the girl with the ring. Barney, you 
and Pat go 'round by the Avenoo and head her 
off. We don't want her runnin' to the West side. 

65 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


Drive her over to Lexin'ton if you can. Then 
it 'll be easy. Hurry now, after her." 

Nora and the strange child waited breath- 
lessly until all sounds of the pursuit had died 
away, then they crept out warily. 

‘That boy was right," whispered the little girl. 
“Those others are just — ^just — " she hesitated 
trying to find the right word, “just stealers," she 
ended. 

“I hope they don’t harm Johnny," said Nora, 
beginning to grow anxious now that he was gone. 

“They ’ll have to catch him first," said her com- 
panion with much assurance. “When he gets 
away from them he can slip out of your dress and 
be a boy again, you see." 

“Aye, that ’s right too," agreed Nora, much 
comforted. “Come now, we ’ll be movin’ on." 

But the other did not stir. She was gazing at 
Nora attentively. 

“You look so different without your flat," she 
said with an air of great wisdom. “If I were 
you I ’d throw away those gloves. They seem 
funny when you ’ve no hat, — and you must hide 
66 


THE GIRL WITH THE DIAMONDS 

that ring. Some one else might see it and want 
to take it. I wish we could do something to 
make me look different, too, in case we should 
meet any of those boys again.’’ 

All these suggestions were so practical that 
Nora was impressed. 

‘‘My, but you ’re the wise little thing,” she said 
admiringly. “I ’ll tell you what we ’ll do. I ’ll 
give you my hair-net, that will change you,” and 
she pulled it off as she spoke, letting down a 
bronze mane over her shoulders. 

“What pretty hair!” exclaimed the strange 
child, impulsively. 

“Do you think so?” inquired Nora anxiously. 
“I can’t see that it ’s so ugly myself, though it is 
an awful’ unfashionable color. Of all the lovely 
ladies in the hair-dresser’s window there ’s none 
that wear it.” 

“I like it,” said the girl gravely. 

“I ’m glad,” replied Nora, “but what ’s to be- 
come of this ring that’s got us into all this 
trouble ? I ’d lose it out of my pocket, like I did 
my purse. Perhaps it ’s better to wear it, after 
67 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


all. I can turn in the stone,— so/' and she held 
out her hand with the diamonds shining in the 
palm. 

But the child shook her head positively. 

‘‘You must wear it around your neck/’ she 
insisted. “No one will see it then. These bad 
people in this town, they steal. They took 
Mammy's best bandana with a lot of things 
in it." 

“But I 've nothing to tie it on with," Nora 
complained, though she was ready enough to 
fall in with the suggestion. 

The girl put her hand to her neck and drew 
out a fine gold chain. 

“Take this," she said, trying to unfasten it. 

“I 'll not take your pretty chain," replied Nora, 
“but I 'll put the ring on it and you can carry 
it for me. 'T will be as safe with you as with 
me, and no one will think of your wearing dia- 
monds around your neck." And with deft fingers 
she carried this plan into effect, tucking the 
sparkling jewel inside the collar of the faded 
dress. 


68 


THE GIRL WITH THE DIAMONDS 

‘We Te going to be great friends, are n’t we?” 
she went on, for this little act of trustfulness 
seemed to draw her nearer the child. “Tell me, 
dear, what ’s your name? Mine is Nora O’Neil.” 

“My name is Bebee,” was the simple answer. 

“Bebee’s French, is n’t it?” asked Nora. 

“Is it?” questioned Bebee, and then, “Yes, I 
suppose it is.” 

“And what ’s the rest of it?” demanded Nora 
with an inviting smile. 

But the child’s expression changed and her 
mouth closed firmly. 

“It ’s just Bebee,” she said, positively. “Come, 
we must go on before it’s dark,” and she led 
the way out of the bushes. 

Nora followed without a word, her mind 
dwelling on the evident reluctance of the child 
to answer her last question. 

“These poor little darkies don’t have any last 
names, I guess,” she thought; then hugging to 
her heart a plan that had come to her, she mur- 
mured to herself, “ ’T will be better than any 
dog!” And with a look of joy in her face, she 
69 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


kept close to Bebee, as they picked their way out 
of the vacant lots into the streets again. 

The long July day was coming to an end, and 
the glare of the burning buildings began to show 
red against the sky as the dusk deepened. The 
two trudged on, speaking little, but going boldly 
forward now that their fear of Micky Donovan 
and his gang was past. However their progress 
was slow and, in their flight with Johnny, Nora 
had entirely lost her bearings. 

‘'Do you know where we are, Bebee?’’ she 
asked at last, coming to a stop. 

Bebee looked at her in surprise. 

“Of course I do,” she answered readily. 

“Well, that ’s good,” breathed Nora with a 
sigh of relief. “Where are we, dear?” 

“In New York,” said Bebee, “with the 
ab’litionists.” 

“Of course,” laughed Nora. “But where? 
What street?” 

“Oh, that I don’t know,” the child replied in- 
differently. 


70 


THE GIRL WITH THE DIAMONDS 

‘'But we can’t go on like this,” said Nora. 
“We ’ll fall in our tracks. I ’ll have to ask.” 

She looked about her, trying to pick out some 
one whom she would dare to stop and question. 
There were many people on the streets, hurrying 
along, paying scant attention to any one else; 
for all seemed burdened with the spoils of some 
looted house. One old hag, bent nigh double 
wdth the weight of a bundle of silken draperies, 
passed close to them, but Nora drew back with 
a shake of her head. 

“Not that one,” she whispered to Bebee. “I ’ll 
wait till I see an honest old woman.” 

“If ’t is an honest woman you ’re looking for, 
here she is, dearie,” said a harsh voice behind 
them, and a restraining hand was laid on Nora’s 
shoulder. 

The little girl turned with a start of surprise, 
to look up into a pair of small, greenish eyes, 
set very near together in a coarse, red face. 

“Will you please tell us the shortest way to 
the Harlem Station or, if it ’s nearer, to the 

71 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
Fifth Avenue Hotel?'’ she asked as politely as 
she knew how. 

The woman's appearance did not make her 
feel very confident, and she was glad she had 
taken Bebee's advice and concealed the ring. 
There was nothing about her now, she thought, 
that any one would want. 

The stranger threw back her head and laughed 
loudly. 

‘The Fift' Avenoo ! 'T is a real swell I 've 
found," she cried. “Come over here to the light 
till I have a look at ye," and she took Nora 
roughly by the shoulder and propelled her for- 
ward. 

“How dare you touch her?" cried Bebee, and 
Nora had a glimpse of the child glaring angrily 
at her burly captor, as she tugged at the arm 
that held her new friend. 

“Let go," cried the woman and threw Bebee 
off with a jerk. 

Nora had a call for help on her lips, when a 
crowd of boys turned into the street not far from 
72 


THE GIRL WITH THE DIAMONDS 


them. The woman saw them too, for she 
shouted loudly. 

“Hey, Micky, you spalpeen, come here this in- 
stant. I Ve been needin’ ye these two hours 
gone. Come here, I say, or ’t will be the worse 
for you.” 

Nora, with a sinking heart, watched one of 
the boys detach himself from the group and slink 
forward. As he reached them his eyes opened 
wide while he looked at her in astonishment. 

“ ’T is the girl with the di’mon’s !” cried Mick 
Donovan ; “I ’ve been chasin’ her all over the 
West side. Where ’s Johnny Clancy an’ the 
little darky? And how did she get here?” 

Nora, forgetting her own peril for the moment, 
would have cried out to Bebee to fly, but Bebee 
had already disappeared. 


73 


CHAPTER VI 


NORA MADE PRISONER 

T he discovery that Bebee had vanished 
brought a pang of regret to Nora and 
made her forget her own situation for the time 
being; then, with a feeling of relief, she decided 
that the child had only hidden because she carried 
the ring and no doubt would reappear as soon 
as Nora was out of this latest difficulty. 

At the word ''di’mon’s” the woman's grip had 
fastened more tightly on her arm. 

‘What was ye sayin' about di'mon’s, Micky?" 
she demanded of her son. 

“ T was a great shinin’ ring she had on her 
finger," the boy answered. “Sure I never see 
such a big one." 

“Have ye been robbin’ down on Twinty-ninth 
Street?" asked the woman, shaking Nora. “I 
74 


NORA MADE PRISONER 

hear they Ve been cleanin’ out a jewelry store 
down there.” 

"'I ’ve not been near Twenty-ninth Street,” de- 
clared Nora, ‘^and I have n’t any ring.” She 
held out her hand to show them. 

’T was on that same finger she ’s holdin’ out 
to ye that I saw it,” Micky broke in. ‘‘ ’T was 
as big as a bean and shone like a star.” 

‘Why did ye be lettin’ her make off with stolen 
property?” cried Mrs. Donovan in a threatening 
tone. “Now hand it over to me!” she added, 
turning to Nora.” 

“But I tell you I haven’t it,” Nora insisted. 

“Don’t be tellin’ me a He,” said the woman. 

“Where ’s the little darky girl that was with 
ye?” demanded Micky. 

“I don’t know,” answered Nora. “She was 
here a minute since.” 

“That ’s true,” declared Mrs. Donovan. 
“There was a black-lookin’ creature with her. 
Where ’s she got to, I wonder ?” and the woman 
peered about her in the fast-gathering darkness. 

“Mommer,” said Micky, in a soft voice, “sure 

75 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


the young lady has n't the ring, as ye can see, 
and I misdoubt she 's tired and would like to go 
home. Let her call her darky friend an' they 
can be off together." 

For a moment Mrs. Donovan and her son eyed 
each other, and a glance full of meaning passed 
between them. 

'Taith, Micky, 't is the soft-hearted boy ye are, 
and right, too!" said the woman with an entire 
change of tone. ‘The poor colleen is tired, as 
ye say. I doubt not, me dear," she went on 
addressing Nora, “that the other young one is 
but hidin' for fear of us. Darkies is that timid. 
Call out to her and ye can both be goin' home." 

“And will you tell me how to get to the hotel ?" 
asked Nora, only anxious to be gone. 

“To be sure, Micky will put you safe on your 
way, me dear," Mrs. Donovan assured her. 

Nora was not entirely deceived by this change 
of tactics on the part of Mrs. Donovan and her 
son, but it was clear that if she didn't fall in 
with their suggestion they would immediately 
come to the conclusion that Bebee really had the 
76 


NORA MADE PRISONER 

ring they were looking for and would start a 
search for her, so she decided to do as she had 
been bidden. 

‘‘Bebee! Bebee!’^ she called, softly at first, 
and then, as no one appeared, more loudly. 
^'Bebee ! Come, dearie, ’t is all right, and we 'll 
be goin' away together. Beb&, please come." 

Then all three waited in silence ; but there was 
no sign of the child, and Mrs. Donovan lost her 
patience. 

^'Let her go," she snapped, returning to her 
harsh manner. 'We've got one of 'em, and 
we 'll make sure the ring's not on her. Come 
along. Miss, I 'll show you the way home," she 
ended, laughing derisively as she clutched Nora 
by the arm. 

"Oh, don't," cried Nora, shrinking away as 
far as she could. "Indeed I have n't the ring." 

"Then where is it?" demanded the woman, 
threateningly. 

It was on the tip of Nora's tongue to tell, but 
the thought of the possible consequences to Bebee 
kept her silent. 


77 . 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘They 'd make nothin' of hurtin' a poor little 
colored girl," she said to herself. 

“Why don't you speak?" cried Mrs. Donovan, 
tightening her grasp on Nora's shoulder. 
“Where 's the di'mon's ?" She waited a moment, 
but receiving no answer went on. “So you won't 
tell? Is that it? Well, it may be ye have it 
on ye. 'T is easy to make sure of that, and if 
ye 've not got it — " she paused menacingly, 
“we 're goin’ this way now." With which she 
jerked Nora round and walked her down a side 
street toward the East River. 

They had gone about a block when Mrs. Don- 
ovan turned to her son. 

“Go back and search for that other child — 
and mind ye find her. Ye needn't come home 
till ye do." 

“I 'll do me best," said Micky, and disappeared 
in the gloom, while Nora and his mother pene- 
trated a little further into what she could see 
was a squalid part of the city. 

“Where are you taking me?" cried Nora, 

78 


NORA MADE PRISONER 

struggling to be free of the iron grip on her 
arm. 

''I 'll soon show you/' answered the woman, 
dragging her forward, and a half-block further 
on, she turned into a little house and closed the 
door behind her. 

''Here we are," she said, with a malicious 
laugh. "It may not be so good as the Fift' 
Avenoo, but 't is the best home you 'll have till ye 
tell me where that di'mon' ring is." 

Mrs. Donovan led the way toward a rickety 
staircase at the back, but instead of ascending, 
she opened a door behind it and pushed Nora in. 
It was a good-sized room they entered, fairly 
clean though far from tidy, and the furnishings 
showed Nora that it was the kitchen and parlor 
combined. 

Mrs. Donovan wasted no time on ceremony, 
but at once began her search ; even going to the 
length of feeling in the toes of Nora's shoes, and 
commented enviously the while on the fineness 
of her clothing. 


79 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘'Must have cost a mint of money!’’ she mut- 
tered to herself. ‘They’ll pay for her keep if 
I have to hold her long.” Then to Nora, “Will 
you tell me where that ring is? I’m askin’ ye 
for the last time.” 

“I do not know,” answered Nora, feeling that 
she was telling the truth so long as she had no 
knowledge of Bebee’s whereabouts. 

“Then in there ye go till ye get a better mem- 
ory,” cried Mrs. Donovan in a rage, and she 
thrust Nora through a back door into a tiny 
room. The grating of the key in the lock told her 
she was a prisoner. 

With a little moan of despair she sank to the 
floor and covered her face with her hands. 


8o 


CHAPTER VII 


JOHNNY GOES TO THE ASTOR HOUSE 

W HEN Johnny Clancy left Nora and Bebee 
hiding among the weeds in the vacant 
lot, he did not run his hardest at first, fearing 
that his pursuers would perceive the trick he 
was attempting to play on them. He w.as glad 
when he heard the shouts that told of their start- 
ing after him, and, with much cunning, he ran 
in and out of bushes, or behind whatever afforded 
shelter, giving the boys momentary glimpses of 
him, but still seeming to endeavor to keep hid- 
den. He had no desire to get too far ahead, 
but bent his energies to encouraging his pursuers 
to hold to the chase. 

As they drew away from the starting point, 
he turned toward the west. His aim was to 
get into the rocks and ravines in that part of 
the island. The two boys who had been de- 

8i 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

tailed by Micky Donovan to head him off did 
their best, but he eluded them and flew on with 
less caution, though he still took pains not to 
show himself too openly. Seeing what he was 
trying to do the gang redoubled their efforts, 
shouting back and forth to each other in a 
frenzied attempt to stop him. But by this time 
the main point of his purpose had been attained, 
already the girls must have left their hiding-place 
and, once gone, they would not easily be picked 
up again. Morever it was growing dusk, which 
would increase their chances of escape. 

''Sure, they Te safe as safe, be now,’' he said 
to himself, as he raced along. 

When at length he had gained the rocky hills 
near the Hudson he felt free to slip from his 
pursuers ; but, knowing that they were still upon 
his trail, he went on for another five minutes to 
make sure that he had led them far enough 
away. 

At length, however, he turned into a deep cleft 
between two hills, and tearing off Nora’s dress 
and hat, he bundled them back of a stone. A 
82 


TO THE ASTOR HOUSE 

moment later he ran out at the other end of the 
cleft and doubled back on his tracks. 

Johnny Clancy now felt quite proud of him- 
self and of his success in saving Nora from 
Micky Donovan and his gang. 

‘There ’s no denyin’ ’t was the darky girl that 
planned the scheme/’ he said to himself with 
perfect fairness, “but ’t was me carried it out,” 
and he whistled contentedly, as he hurried along. 

He had no doubt that by this time Nora was 
safe on the way home, though he intended to 
go and see, not so much to make certain, as to 
talk over their experiences and, perhaps, to boast 
a little of the ease with which he had outrun 
the other boys. 

There were yet many people on the streets. 
Most of them stood about in crowds, talking 
loudly and bragging of what they would do, but 
there were others that went hurrying along, 
skulking close to the walls, overweighted with 
great bundles as if they had found treasures and 
had taken more than they could carry. Johnny 
passed men and women with bales of expensive 

83 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
cloths or silks, others with household goods piled 
with awkward confusion; one man staggered by 
with a bed balanced on his bowed shoulders while 
a woman followed with the mattress, loaded with 
blankets and sheets built up into a sort of pyra- 
mid, on the top of which fluttered a dainty lace 
pillow-sham. 

^Who would have thought there was so much 
stuff to steal?'’ commented Johnny to himself as 
he hurried along. 

There were numerous vehicles on the streets 
and these were engaged in the same occupation. 
Hucksters' barrows, wagons, dump-carts, rickety 
and worn-out carriages on wabbly wheels, drawn 
by weak old horses that tugged painfully at their 
heavy loads of loot, while beside them trudged 
their drivers, armed with stout clubs and cast- 
ing anxious glances right and left, ready to re- 
pel attack, for no man, rich or poor, was safe 
in New York that night if he had with him any- 
thing worth the taking. 

'There 's a fine job for the peelers," mused 
Johnny, but he looked in vain for any policemen. 
84 


TO THE ASTOR HOUSE 

At Twenty-third Street Johnny decided he 
would stop at the Fifth Avenue Hotel to inquire 
if Nora had come there. It was on his way and 
it would do no harm to ask. But when he 
reached it he found it would not be so easy 
as he anticipated to get the information he 
wanted. 

The front of the hotel presented a strange ap- 
pearance, barricaded as it was with rough boards 
nailed together to protect the plate-glass in the 
windows on the lower floor. At the entrance 
several men armed with pistols and guns warned 
him off as he approached.^ 

He paused on the opposite side of the street 
wondering what to do. Perhaps Nora was there 
and not at the Astor House, it being reasonable 
to suppose that the hotel managers might keep 
her rather than send her on while the city was 
in such a state. He determined to find out in 

1 The next day a platform, ten feet above the floor, was erected 
at the entrance of the Fifth Avenue Hotel, to give the soldiers 
protecting it, a position of vantage to fire from. Guests or- 
ganized for defense and prepared to throw boiling water on the 
mob from the windows. — E. B. K. 


8s 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
spite of the guards, and crossed the street de- 
liberately. 

‘They won’t shoot a lone lad,” he said to him- 
self, as he disregarded the warning shouts that 
greeted him. ‘T won’t hurt ye,” he called back. 
“ ’T is business I have with the hotel.” 

But, though the men stationed in front of the 
building did not shoot him, they would on no 
account let him inside. However, after repeated 
questions and much explanation, they assured 
him that no such child as he described Nora to 
be, had been that way for at least three hours. 
She could not have entered the hotel without 
being seen, and at length Johnny was forced 
to the conclusion that she had not stopped 
there. 

For the first time he began to worry a little. 
Perhaps the plan had not worked out so success- 
fully as he had anticipated. In a little while he 
had argued himself into a state of painful 
anxiety. 

“That ring would make a mark of Miss Nora,” 
86 


TO THE ASTOR HOUSE 
he told himself. ‘'Why did n’t I take it, or tell 
her to hide it ? There ’s plenty about here would 
do murder for such a shiner. And that darky — 
Sure ’t is like as not she ’s not honest. Oh, why 
did I ever leave Miss Nora?” 

It was quite late when Johnny arrived at the 
Astor House. He was tired all over, but of this 
he thought little while he argued with the guards 
who stopped him in the same way as those at 
the Fifth Avenue Hotel had done. 

“But I tell you,” said Johnny at last, raising 
his voice in his exasperation, “I Ve just got to 
see if she ’s come in. Oh, Mr. Ryan ! Ryan !” 
he shouted at the top of his lungs, naming the 
tall attendant who knew him. 

Johnny’s call had the desired effect for the 
huge doors opened a little and the big man ap- 
peared. 

“Who ’s calling?” he asked. 

“ ’T is me, Johnny Clancy,” answered the boy. 
“I ’m lookin’ for Miss Nora. Tell me, is she 
back in the hotel, Mr. Ryan?” 

87 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘'Let the boy in,” Ryan called down to the 
guards, and Johnny ran up the stair two steps 
at a time. 

“Tell me, is she here?” he panted, as he 
slipped inside. 

“Are you talking of Miss Nora O’Neil?” asked 
the doorman, and Johnny’s heart sank for he 
knew that if she had come in the man must have 
known it. 

“Who else could I mean?” he snapped out, too 
much concerned to think of the respect the mag- 
nificent door-man usually inspired. 

“Am I understandin’ ye to say,” asked Ryan, 
“that Miss Nora is out?” He looked at Johnny 
with amazement and incredulity. 

“Did ye not see her go this afternoon?” ques- 
tioned the boy. 

“No, I was off duty for an hour or two,” the 
man replied. 

“Well, she was out,” cried Johnny. “I found 
her ’way up by the reservoir, with a crowd of 
micks around her, an’ — ” 

But Ryan cut him short, and hurried him into 
88 


TO THE ASTOR HOUSE 

the private office of Mr. Stetson/ the manager 
of the hotel. 

“Ye ’ll excuse me, sir,” he burst out, “but this 
boy here says he saw Miss Nora O’Neil away up 
town and — and, nobody knows where she is now.” 

Mr. Stetson had looked up from his desk at the 
entrance of Ryan with an angry frown on his 
face, but this at once gave place to a look of 
concern as he heard the explanation of the in- 
trusion. 

Without a Word he rang a bell and even be- 
fore he asked for Johnny’s story, he had sent a 
hall-boy to the O’Neils’ rooms. 

It took but a minute or two for Johnny to tell 
the main facts of his tale, and soon it was es- 
tablished that no one in the hotel had seen Nora 
since early in the afternoon. 

Mr. Stetson got to his feet, but shook his head 
perplexedly. 

1 Throughout the war Mr. Stetson kept open house for officers 
and men at the Astor House. 

The hospital stewards were always free of his kitchens. 

His younger son, who was an officer in the Northern Army, 
made a fine record. 


89 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

'What can I do?'" he murmured to himself. 
'T have no one to send even if I knew where to 
send him. Such a state of affairs !" 

At that moment a telegram was handed to him 
and as he opened it his face changed slightly. 

"Mr. O'Neil will be here in two hours," he 
said. "He tells me to notify Miss Nora to ex- 
pect him. My, oh my, the child must be found 
at once." 

Mr. Stetson's first move was to have the tele- 
graph operator call the Fifth Avenue Hotel to 
make certain that Nora had not taken refuge 
there. This being definitely determined he con- 
sidered what next could be done. 

The hopelessness of the situation was appal- 
ling. Where ought the search to begin? 

Under ordinary circumstances he would have 
communicated with the police, but now they were 
gathered together at headquarters and only went 
out in large companies to save threatened prop- 
erty. Already they had more work than they 
could attend to on this, the first night of the great 
draft riots. 


90 


TO THE ASTOR HOUSE 

Mr. Stetson next considered dispatching some 
of his own employees, but here again he was con- 
fronted with a difficulty. His hotel was full of 
guests who must be protected; and as if to em- 
phasize this fact, a great shouting rose in the 
streets and several shots rang out. 

In a moment the place was in a panic. Fright- 
ened people came running downstairs into the 
lobby, clamoring to know what was happening, 
the screams of the women adding to the general 
confusion. It was shortly ascertained that the 
Tribune building, across the City Hall Park op- 
posite the hotel, was being attacked, and Mr. 
Stetson, fearful that his own property might be 
the next to attract the attention of the mob, for 
the time could spare no one to take up the search 
for Nora O’Neil. 

But Johnny Clancy had only one thought as 
he stood forgotten in the confusion of the hotel 
lobby. 'Where was Miss Nora ?” He cared not 
at all if the hotel was smashed to bits. His in- 
terest centered in finding one little girl who had 
won his humble devotion. 

91 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


she mendin' me coat with her own hands, 
an' feedin' me when I never needed it at all, an' 
doin' this and that out of the kindness of her 
heart. Oh, 't is terrible to think of her losted 
out in the city ! I 've got to find her," he ended 
with a catch in his throat. 

At any rate he would wait no longer. If he 
could get no help he would go alone, w^hich re- 
solve taken he looked about him in dismay. Now 
that he was in, there seemed no way out, and he 
felt as if he had been trapped. The noise going 
on in Broadway showed only too plainly that es- 
cape in that direction was impossible, so he 
turned and made his way to the back of the build- 
ing. A few worried and anxious employees paid 
no heed to him and he soon found himself in the 
kitchens on the lower floor, and through these 
he slipped out by a service entrance. 

Once in Vesey Street he turned from the sound 
of the tumult and ran as hard as he could away 
from the scene of the disorder. 

Soon he slowed down into a walk and began 
to consider what he should do next. There 


92 


TO THE ASTOR HOUSE 


seemed no way to begin the search, except to re- 
turn to the place where he had left the two girls. 
That was a starting-point at least. 

‘‘She ’ll be somewhere in the neighborhood. 
Sure I didn’t trick ’em so fine as I thought I 
had,” he reflected sorrowfully 

But as Johnny contemplated the long walk 
back to the reservoir his heart misgave him. He 
was tired out, and it was going to take him an 
age to get to Fortieth Street. And even if he 
found Nora, how could he get her home? In- 
stinctively he looked up, thinking of the Broad- 
way stages, then he shook his head with a grim 
little laugh. 

“ ’T would be a fool that would be expectin’ 
anything to be runnin’ this night,” he thought. 
“They ’d tear the stages up for firewood and steal 
the horses. And Miss Nora’s not used to footin’ 
it.” 

He had been making his way uptown as fast 
as his tired legs would let him but now he stopped 
short. 

“William Kerrigan!” he said aloud. “Why 
93 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

did n’t I think of him long ago ?” and with that 
he turned on his heel and ran into a side street 
at the top of his speed. 


94 


CHAPTER VIII 


IN A DARK HALLWAY 

ITTLE Rosie Kerrigan climbed into her 



I J father's lap and, pushing aside the paper 
he was reading, fixed herself comfortably in his 


arms. 


'Tell me about Mith Nora," she said, with a 
funny lisp. 

"Sure, do ye never get tired of bearin' about 
her ?" asked her father, pretending to be annoyed 
at the interruption. "No matter what I may be 
doin', you 're up in my lap beggin' for stories 
about 'Mith Nora.’ And when will I have a 
chance to read me paper, an' all about the war ?" 

" 'T is a thilly old paper," commented Rosie. 
"It hath n’t any pi'tures in it. Tell me about 
Mith Nora." 

"Well, what shall I tell ye?" assented her 
father, with a laugh. "Ever since I 've been 


95 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
drivin’ for Mr. O’Neil, I ’ve been tellin’ ye the 
history of every day I Ve spent with his daughter. 
Ye know everything I do already.” 

‘Tell me about the time she picked up the poor 
little boy and made you drive him through 
Central Park to hear the band, ’cause he wath 
tired,” commanded Rosie. 

‘T Ve told ye that forty times if I Ve told it 
once,” her father answered, “but I suppose ye ’ll 
not be satisfied till I tell it again, so here goes. 
Well, ye mind I was drivin’ along Forty-second 
Street after — ” 

“ ’T was Forty-third Threet,” Rosie corrected, 
with a positive jerk of her head. 

“You ’re right it was,” agreed her father. 
“Well, to go on, — ” But again he was inter- 
rupted, this time by a violent knock on the door. 

William looked anxious as he rose and went to 
answer it. He and his family lived over the 
stable rented by Mr. O’Neil. People coming to 
visit him rang the bell downstairs before enter- 
ing, and William had thought that the outer door 
was locked. 


96 


IN A DARK HALLWAY 

"Who's there?" he demanded, abruptly. 

"" 'T is me, Johnny Clancy," came the answer. 
""Let me in quick, William." 

""Are ye alone?" demanded the coachman, 
wishing for the sake of his family to run no 
risks. 

""To be sure," answered Johnny. ""Hurry, 
do." 

William opened the door and Johnny bolted 
in, a bedraggled and dripping figure. 

""For the land's sake, lad, you 're wringin' 
wet," exclaimed the coachman. 

""Never mind that. 'T is only rain," panted 
Johnny. "" 'T is about Miss Nora I 've come, 
and — " 

""What about her?" demanded William, almost 
fiercely, for he saw by the boy's face that some- 
thing was amiss. 

""She 's gone !" cried Johnny. ""She 's gone !" 

""Gone?" echoed William in astonishment. 
""Gone where?" 

""Oh, if I only knew!" answered Johnny with 
a sob, shivering with cold, anxiety and hunger. 
97 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

William, realizing something of the boy’s con- 
dition, pushed him into a chair. 

‘'Sit there, now, and tell me all about it?” he 
said. “Waste no words that ye can help. I ’m 
thinkin’ time is precious.” 

“ T is that, with Mr. O’Neil cornin’ back 
to-night. If he finds Miss Nora gone he ’ll be 
wild,” and forthwith Johnny plunged, into his 
story. 

William listened in silence, his face growing 
more stern as he heard the details. Uncon- 
sciously he put a strong arm around little Rosie 
as if to protect her. 

“There ’s a lot more I can be tellin’ ye on 
the way,” Johnny ended breathlessly, “but me 
scheme was to have you drive me out there 
where I saw her last. ’T will save time, and 
I ’ll be glad of help, with the gangs that ’s on 
the streets this night. I ’m hopin’ the drivin’ 
rain will keep ’em indoors a bit. But dear, 
dear, do ye think Miss Nora can be out in 
it?” 

William was already getting into his coat. 

98 


IN A DARK HALLWAY 

‘We ’ll go as soon as I can harness a horse,” 
he said. “Have you had aught to eat?” 

“Not a bite since mornin’. I ’m fair starvin’, 
and that ’s a fact. But never mind,” said 
Johnny. 

“Rosie, run to your mommer and ask her to 
feed Johnny with whatever she has handy. I ’ll 
call when I ’m ready,” and as Rosie went out of 
one door her father went out of the other on the 
run. 

Less than ten minutes later William, with 
Johnny beside him, was driving swiftly up Fifth 
Avenue toward the reservoir. William’s set 
face was looking straight ahead, while Johnny 
told him all of the story over again from the be- 
ginning. Now and then the coachman would 
emit a growl of anger, but for the most part he 
kept silent. 

The pelting rain had sent most of the people 
to seek shelter. Occasionally they would see a 
figure skulking along in the shadows but there 
were no vehicles to impede their progress and 
William urged the horse to top speed. 

99 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

‘What I can’t make out,” he growled, “is what 
that French mam’selle was doin’ to let the child 
out on a day like this?” 

“You could ha’ knocked me down with a 
feather, when I seen her up there — and all alone,” 
answered Johnny, and for a moment they were 
silent. 

“Do ye have any hope of findin’ her where 
we ’re goin’ ?’' asked William anxiously. 

“To tell the truth, I have n’t,” answered 
Johnny, dismally, “but what’s to do?” 

“We ’ll find her if we search the whole night 
through,” vowed William fervently. “Ye did 
right to come to me, Johnny. Poor little Miss 
Nora ! Sure if anything has happened her — ” 

“Don’t be puttin’ tongue to any thoughts like 
that, William!” cried Johnny. “ ’T would be 
the awfullest thing! And she the tender-heart- 
edest little body in the world, with a care for every 
one but herself. Why, if it had n’t been for that 
darky girl — bad cess to her — she ’d a-been home 
now — but she would n’t leave her. They might 


lOO 


IN A DARK HALLWAY 
hurt the poor child/ says she, and now, who 
knows what 's happened to herself 

‘‘Ah, do be quiet, protested William, but there 
was a break in his voice that was not the result 
of anger. 

At Forty-second Street he pulled up the horse 
to turn the corner, when with an exclamation 
of surprise, Johnny seized his arm. 

“Stop! Stop!’^ he whispered, but before 
William could obey he jumped from the carriage 
and sprang upon a small figure that had halted 
to let them pass. 

The struggle was very short and in a moment 
Johnny was on top of the prostrate boy. 

“Tell me, Pat Dugan, where she is?’’ he de- 
manded fiercely. “I know you’ve got her hid 
somewhere. ’T is small use to be lyin’.” 

This last was a shot in the dark, but he hoped 
to impress the lad with the idea that he had some 
knowledge of what had happened to Nora. His 
ruse succeeded. 

“ ’T is Micky’s mother ’s got her,” answered 


lOI 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


the boy. ‘'Leave me up. I ain’t got nothin’ to 
do with it.” 

“How did Mrs. Donovan get hold of her?” de- 
manded Johnny, by no means reassured by this 
news. 

“If you le’ me up I ’ll tell you,” answered Pat. 
“Honest I will,” and Johnny pulled the boy 
roughly to his feet. 

“Now out with it,” he said threateningly, still 
clutching Pat’s shoulder in a firm grip. 

“We chased the girl all over the West Side — ” 
Pat began. 

“I know all about that,” Johnny inter- 
rupted. 

“Well then,” Pat went on, “when we was 
almost home we turned a corner and there, under 
a street lamp, was the very same girl with Mrs. 
Donovan. How she got there before us I don’t 
know; but Micky’s mother, seein’ him, called 
him over, and we heard somethin’ about di’monts 
and then they all went off together. A little 
later Micky came back and set us lookin’ for the 
darky girl ; but never a peep of her have we had. 


102 


IN A DARK HALLWAY 

That ’s all I know of it, and I cross me heart 
’t is the truth/’ 

The tale, as Pat told it, sounded plausible to 
Johnny, but it gave him little assurance of Nora’s 
safety. He knew the Donovans, root and branch, 
and his heart sank as he thought that Nora was 
in their hands. 

By this time William had turned the horse and 
had stopped beside them. 

‘We ’ve got track of her,” said Johnny, in 
answer to his hurried questions, but there was 
no note of elation in his voice. 

After hearing all that Pat could tell, William 
was for driving to the Donovan tenement with 
all speed and forthwith demanding Miss Nora, 
but Johnny shook his head. 

“You ’d be but runnin’ your head into a hor- 
nets’ nest,” he said thoughtfully ; “you don’t know 
that crowd. They ’d beat ye up and throw you 
out in the gutter, as quick as look at ye. Par- 
ticular’ on a night like this when there is n’t a 
peeler for miles around. No, if Mrs. Donovan ’s 
got her, we can’t take her away as easy as that ! 

103 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


One man and a boy would have no show there. 
’T is some other way we ’ll have to go about it.” 

William found no argument to combat this 
statement of Johnny’s, and for a moment there 
was silence, each trying to hit upon some plan 
by which Nora could be rescued. At last Johnny 
spoke. 

‘The first thing we Ve got to do is to make 
sure she ’s there, is n’t it ?” 

“Aye, that ’s the first thing,” agreed William, 
“but how?” 

“I ’ll do that,” answered Johnny. “We ’ll 
drive down as near as we dare and I ’ll take a 
look at things, while you wait nearby with the 
horse. We’ll keep Pat by us. It’s a long 
tongue he has, and he might take a notion to tell 
Micky all he knows. Get in with ye,” and he 
gave the captured boy a smart shove toward the 
carriage. 

They were only a short distance from the tene- 
ment where the Donovans lived and in a few 
moments William stopped the horse at a corner 
about half a block from the place. 

104 


IN A DARK HALLWAY 

The rioters had left few lights burning in this 
part of the city, but Johnny, who knew the streets 
well, would have been better pleased if there had 
been none. The rain still fell steadily and, in 
consequence, the usually noisy and densely popu- 
lated thoroughfare was empty. 

‘‘Hold on to him, and wait till I get back,” 
Johnny admonished William as he turned Pat 
over to him, and disappeared from view in the 
shadow of the buildings. 

He knew every in and out of the tenement 
where the Donovans lived. There were three 
or four of them, standing side by side on that 
street, all exactly alike, and not long before 
Johnny himself had slept in a corner of a room 
in one of them, when he happened to have ten 
cents to pay for his place there, so he took his 
way confidently toward the house, determined, 
first of all, to find out whether Nora was being 
held a prisoner. He thought it quite possible that 
she had been kept only long enough to strip her 
of her valuables and then had been released. 
Once Micky’s mother had found the ring she 
los 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


would be only too glad to be rid of the girl, in 
which case Nora might be wandering around the 
streets somewhere, wet and bewildered. 

At the entrance to the Donovan tenement he 
stopped and looked about him. Then, on tiptoe, 
he slid into the hallway and made his way back 
to the door under the staircase. There was 
scarcely any light, for the pale blue flame of the 
gas-jet did not illuminate ten feet from its im- 
mediate neighborhood. 

Stepping cautiously to the Donovans’ door, he 
pressed his ear to it and listened. For a time 
there came to him only the gruff voices of two 
men, talking in so low a tone that he could not 
distinguish the words. Presently, however, there 
was the sound of a door slammed noisily, the 
grating of a key turning in a rusty lock, and then 
he heard Mrs. Donovan speaking angrily. 

‘The brat says she has n’t got it and don’t know 
where it is,” she blurted out. “Oh, it ’s a lie, I 
know, and I ’ll have the truth if I have to starve 
it out of her.” 

Johnny’s heart gave a bound of joy. Miss 
io6 


IN A DARK HALLWAY 
Nora was there and, further, he knew the exact 
location of the room in which she was held a 
prisoner. 

’T is lucky those Donovans live on the ground 
floor, ’’ he said to himself. ‘1 ’ll have her out 
in no time.” And he was about to go back 
through the hall, when a figure entered from the 
street and advanced rapidly toward him. 

With a gasp of dismay Johnny shrank away 
from the door and pressed himself into the 
shadow of the staircase, for he had recognized 
Micky Donovan as the boy passed under the gas 
jet. 


107 


CHAPTER IX 


''stop thief r’ 

U NDER ordinary circumstances Nora was 
a brave little girl and not inclined to tears, 
but it was not surprising that, after all she had 
undergone that day, she should have broken down 
when she found herself a prisoner in Mrs. Dono- 
van’s back room. She cried for a time, mainly 
because she felt so helpless, but soon she dried 
her eyes and controlled her sobbing. 

"I ’m glad Daddy ’s away,” she said to her- 
self, "for he ’d be fair crazy not knowin’ where 
I was. ’T is a queer adventure entirely, but I 
guess ’t will be all right. They can’t eat me, and 
that ’s a fact !” 

This last idea brought with it an explanation 
of a curious feeling she had been conscious of 
for some time. 

"Why, I ’m just hungry,” she murmured with 
io8 


‘‘STOP THIEF r 


a smile. “I thought I had somethin" awful the 
matter with me, but "t is just empty I am. "T is 
long past supper time, I "m thinkin". Oh my, I 
wish I was out of this."" 

The sound of rain beating sharply against the 
window attracted her attention. 

“I wonder if I could get out there?"’ she 
thought, and, rising, tiptoed across the floor. 

She had little hope of escape and was not much 
surprised to find that there were stout iron bars 
on the outside. 

“No supper that way,"" she murmured. Now 
that the thought of food had entered her mind 
she could not forget how famished she felt. 

“Faith, I believe I could eat a cow and an old 
one at that,” she said, half aloud, sighing dis- 
mally. 

She turned from the window and had just re- 
seated herself on the floor, when the door was 
opened and Mrs. Donovan came in, closing it be- 
hind her. 

“Well, are ye ready to tell where the ring is 
ye stole?"" she demanded roughly. 

109 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

‘T did not steal it/’ Nora denied angrily. 

’T was give’ me by me father.” 

’T is likely,” sneered the woman, and in the 
dark Nora was more afraid of her than she was 
when she could see her. ‘‘Would ye have me be- 
lieve ye ’d be let go round the streets with di’mon’s 
like that ? Don’t think I ’m to be took in be 
such talk. Either ye stole it or ye found it, but, 
whichever way it was, I mean to have it.” 

“I don’t know where it is,” Nora insisted, per- 
sisting in her determination not to let these people 
know that Bebee had the ring. 

“I ’ve told you twenty times I did n’t have the 
ring,” she added wearily, but Mrs. Donovan 
broke in harshly. 

“I know ye have n’t it, all right, — ^but ye know 
where it is, and until ye tell me, here ye ’ll stay.” 

“Then in mercy’s name,” cried Nora, “give me 
something to eat for I ’m sick with hunger.” 

“Where ’s the ring?” demanded Mrs. Donovan. 

“I tell you I don’t know,” answered Nora. 

“Then we ’ll see if bein’ hungry will help your 
poor memory ; for I warn ye, ye ’ll get neither 


no 


^^STOP THIEF T’ 


meat nor drink till ye tell!'’ And with that the 
woman went out, slamming the door angrily and 
locking it behind her. 

‘The brat says she has n't got it," Nora heard 
her say through the closed door, and then she 
sighed despairingly, “ T is a pretty fix I 'm in," 
and sank back on the floor which seemed to grow 
colder and harder every minute. 

Nora, when she tried, could catch some of the 
conversation that went on in the next room, but 
she had paid little heed to it heretofore. Now, 
however, as she sat there, she heard the outer 
door shut and the voice of Micky Donovan speak- 
ing. 

“We Ve looked high and low for the colored 
girl, and not a sign of her can we see." 

“ T is small use ye are," his mother growled. 
“Here ye Ve let a fortune slip through your 
fingers." 

“ T was Johnny Clancy spoiled me plans," 
grunted Micky. “Just wait till I catch him! 
As for the ring, she 'd never trust it to Johnny 
or a stray darky, and if the other one had stole 


III 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


it from her she ’d say so. So this girl ’s got it 
or has hid it, be sure of that.” 

''Well,” said his mother, philosophically, "if 
that ’s so we ’ll have it yet. Her empty stomach 
is on our side and will be a grand persuader. 
We ’ll leave it to coax her for an hour or two.” 

Nora, listening to this conversation, rejoiced 
that Bebee had escaped and with her the ring. At 
least what she was suffering was not for noth- 
ing, but oh dear, she was hungry! Then, sud- 
denly, it occurred to her that if they could n’t find 
Bebee, if they had already searched for her with- 
out success, there was no further need of her 
keeping from Mrs. Donovan the fact that the 
strange child had the ring She went over the 
matter in her own mind, viewing it from every 
angle and then, the pangs of hunger urging her 
on, she rose to her feet and walked to the door. 

She had raised her hand to knock when the 
movement was arrested by a gentle tapping on 
the window-pane that brought her around facing 
it with a feeling of fright. She didn’t know 

II2 


''STOP THIEF r 

what it might be, but awaited developments 
breathlessly. 

Again came the tapping and Nora, taking 
courage, tiptoed over and peered out. Below 
her she saw the head and shoulders of a boy with 
his hand raised to knock again. Something fa- 
miliar in the figure reassured her and she clutched 
at the sash and softly raised it. 

"Miss Nora! Miss Nora!’’ came the whis- 
pered call of Johnny Clancy, and her heart 
bounded with joy as she recognized his voice. 

"I ’m here, Johnny,” she murmured, putting 
her face close to the bars. 

"Are ye all right?” came the anxious question. 

"No, I ’m near starved,” she returned. "But 
I ’m not hurt any. Have ye come to take me 
away?” 

"If I can,” he answered; "I thought I as good 
as had ye ; but I forgot these bars, bad luck to ’em. 
Don’t be making a noise till I see what I can do.” 

The head and shoulders disappeared from 
Nora’s view and she stood silent and attentive, 
1I13 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

listening to the low murmur of voices in the next 
room and the dripping of the rain outside. 

‘‘ T is wet to the skin, that poor boy will be/’ 
she thought as she waited for Johnny to appear 
again. 

Presently he came into view out of the 
shadows. 

‘'Miss Nora,” he called, in subdued tones. 

“Yes, Johnny,” she answered. 

“ T is a awkward business,” he told her. 
“The window ’s a good six foot from the ground, 
but I Ve got a box with a barrel on it, though 
they ’re none too steady. The worst is them iron 
bars. I ’m hopin’ they ’re rusted enough to let 
me break one of them away so that you can 
squeeze through, but I ’m none too sure. Here 
goes for a try. I ’ve found a bit of steel rod to 
pry with, though I ’m fearful of the noise I may 
be makin’.” 

Johnny wedged his rod between two of the bars 
with great care then, cautiously, he threw his 
weight against it; but his position on the top of 
the barrel was a precarious one, his pedestal 
114 


^^STOP THIEF r 

shook perilously when he exerted his strength. 
Moreover the bar seemed as solid as when it had 
first been put in. The rust which Johnny had 
counted upon had not yet done its work. 

'Tt 's pretty strong, Miss Nora,’’ he whispered 
disconsolately, wondering the while what he 
could do. 

Nora, convinced that Johnny’s arrival meant 
her escape, grasped one of the bars. It was quite 
loose, turning in her hand. 

‘'Can’t ye pry at this one?” she asked in an 
undertone. “It ’s almost out now.” 

Johnny seized it and found that he could shake 
it and lift it a little way in the holes drilled in the 
bricks at its top and bottom, but that was all. 
Again he puzzled over the problem and was 
almost ready to despair, when it flashed over him 
that if he could pry away the brick into which 
the base of the bar was inserted he could slide it 
out without any noise. 

He felt in the darkness and discovered that 
the mortar between the bricks was crumbling and 
old. At once he set to work with his rod and a 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
few minutes later the brick was loose and the bar 
out. 

Nora was impatient to be off at once, but 
Johnny cautioned her to wait. 

’T is powerful careful you dl have to be, Miss 
Nora, gettin’ onto that barrel. I misdoubt ye dl 
have trouble. Wait till I ’m down to steady it. 
If they hear us in there we Te done for.’^ 

He stepped down and, after setting the barrel 
and the box as near to the wall as possible, 
signaled for her to come. 

Nora climbed eagerly into the window, but 
there she halted in dismay. Her fashionable 
crinoline had not been planned for such adven- 
tures and she could not possibly squeeze it be- 
tween the bars. But she faltered only for a mo- 
ment. Back she went into the room and slipped 
it off. 

‘‘ T is ashamed I ’ll be to be seen in the Astor 
House all slimpsy like this,” she thought, ‘‘but 
there ’s no help for it,” and the next instant she 
was again on the sill. 

She had no trouble now in getting to the top 

ii6 


‘'STOP THIEF r’ 

of the barrel and her escape seemed assured; 
but, as she attempted to descend to the ground, 
her skirt, lengthened by the removal of the crino- 
line, caught on a nail and jerked her off her feet. 

Uttering an involuntary cry of surprise and dis- 
may, as the box and barrel collapsed, Nora fell 
with a clatter that could be heard a block away. 

Johnny wasted no time in useless questions. 
He grabbed Nora and pulled her up unceremoni- 
ously, then holding her by the arm he dragged 
her to an opening in the fence. Into the next 
yard he hurried her and through the hallway of 
the adjoining tenement. 

“We must run for it, Miss Nora,’’ he cried, the 
clamor and shouts behind them, having shown 
only too plainly that her escape had been discov- 
ered. “You ’re not hurted?” 

“No, no,” answered Nora, “only you should n’t 
say ‘hurted.’ ” 

“Never mind that now,” panted Johnny, “come 
on !” And he led her out of the house and into 
the street. 

Hardly were they turned toward safety than 
117 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
they heard the sound of rapid running, and a man 
shouted '^Stop thief at the top of his lungs. 

Almost as if by magic the doors and windows 
of the houses opened and a babel of voices and 
calls came forth. 

Johnny’s heart sank, for, though they had a 
start he was fearful lest some one, hearing the 
cry, should come out ahead and bar their pro- 
gress. 

“Stop thief!” he yelled, lustily, as a man ran 
toward them. “Toward Lexin’ton,” he called to 
the man. “Hurry on! Into the middle of the 
street. Miss Nora,” he said, pulling her off the 
pavement, “and run for your life. ’T is but half 
a block, and we’ll find William with a carriage 
at the corner.” 

Nora did not reply, but, summoning all her 
strength, she put forth her best speed and raced 
along beside the boy. 

“Stop thief!” continued the cry behind them, 
and they could hear footsteps coming closer till 
even the panting breath of their pursuers was 
audible. But their goal was in sight. The whole 

ii8 


‘^STOP THIEF r 


race was but fifty yards or so, and William, hear- 
ing the shouts, had held himself in readiness for 
anything that might happen, not sure how he 
could be of the most service. Seeing the two 
small forms leading, he knew what was going 
forward and had a hand outstretched to help the 
gasping Nora. In he dragged her while Johnny 
jumped for the step. 

With a rush the whole street seemed to be upon 
the carriage. Pat took this opportunity to dive 
out of the far side, while the excited horse sprang 
forward just in time to avoid Micky Donovan, 
who, with a cry of wrath, leaped for its head, 
as William snapped his whip and they were away 
like the wind. 

Behind them an angry and bafiled woman up- 
braided her son, blaming him for all that had 
happened. 

'Tut this coat around ye. Miss Nora,'’ cried 
Johnny, happy and excited. "Ye 'll be home in 
no time now and nothin' worse than a teared 
dress," and he settled himself at her feet in the 
bottom of the buggy. 


1 19 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘‘Oh, Johnny,” sighed Nora wearily, as she 
leaned back, ‘'how many times have I told you not 
to say ‘teared,’ ” and then she closed her eyes, 
too tired to hold them open while the good horse 
sped along the deserted street toward the Astor 
House. 


'I2Q 


CHAPTER X 


NORA ASKS FOR A PRESENT 

I T was not until the rain had fallen for some 
time in a steady soaking stream that the 
rioters in the City Hall Park melted away. 
Only then could Mr. Stetson of the Astor House 
breathe a little easier and the guards relax some- 
what of their vigilance. At last even the more 
timorous guests took heart and returned to their 
rooms and, except for the barricaded windows 
on the first floor, the affairs of the hotel assumed 
a fairly normal aspect. 

It was then that the hotel manager, relieved 
of anxiety for all of his charges, began to re- 
member individual cases needing attention, and 
among these the disappearance of Nora O’Neil 
was the most pressing. 

Like all who knew Nora, Mr. Stetson was de- 

I2I 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
voted to the child. Her warm-hearted interest 
in any one or any thing in trouble or want, her 
frank simplicity that no luxury could spoil, her 
funny, Irish talk, with its quaint twisting of 
sentences, and her grown-up views on the life 
around her — all these things endeared Nora to 
every one who came in contact with her. 

Moreover, Mr. O’Neil was held in great respect 
because of his unostentatious charities, his more 
than liberal contributions to the many relief or- 
ganizations, and, most of all, his untiring efforts 
in the work of providing the Northern Army 
with all that was necessary to keep the soldiers 
in fighting trim. 

The devotion of Nora and her father to each 
other was known to Mr. Stetson perhaps better 
than to any one else in the world, although every 
one about the hotel could have no doubt of their 
intense joy in being together. So he fully re- 
alized the shock it would be to Mr. O’Neil to re- 
turn and find Nora lost in the city on such a 
night of confusion and rioting as was then going 
on. He dreaded the thought of her father’s 


122 


NORA ASKS FOR A PRESENT 


distress and straightway set about doing what 
he could to effect the little girl's return. 

His first inquiry was for Johnny Clancy who 
had brought the news ; and, of course, he did n't 
find him. Then he sent a message to police 
headquarters telling of the facts in the case and 
received the discouraging word that scores of 
people had been reported missing and there was 
little the authorities could do under the existing 
circumstances. Another telegraphic communi- 
cation with the Fifth Avenue Hotel brought the 
same reply as the previous one. Nothing had 
been heard of a child answering Nora's descrip- 
tion. 

The case called for a regiment at least to go 
out and search the town in all directions, for Nora 
might be anywhere ; but it was impossible to spare 
many men from the hotel. Mr. Stetson was quite 
at his wit's end to know what to do, when, after 
a slight commotion at the door, Mr. O'Neil him- 
self came limping into the lobby. 

''Sure, is it a state of siege ye 're in ?" he asked 
genially. "Ye 've no need to worry. Gineral 
123 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


Grant ’s on our side. But ’t is a fine time ye Te 
havin' in this town. Ye should have seen the bag 
of bones that brought me up from the ferry. Not 
a cab in sight when I got across the river, and 
it took me half an hour's time, and enough dollars 
to buy the outfit, before I could get anything to 
carry me here at all. 'T is a jolly little riot they 
tell me ye 've been havin'." 

With a broad smile on his good-humored face, 
Mr. O'Neil made for the stairway leading to his 
room. 

There was no response to this kindly chaff of 
his and, a little puzzled, he looked at those about 
him, who, as soon as his eye caught theirs, turned 
away. 

'What 's wrong with ye all?" he asked. "Ye 
can't be scared at the doin’s of a lot of ragamuf- 
fins ? Faith, it must be awful, if 't is as bad as 
ye look!" and he laughed aloud. 

At that moment Mr. Stetson hurried to meet 
him. 

"I want to see you in my office," he said, rather 
124 


NORA ASKS FOR A PRESENT 


brusquely, for the news he had to tell upset him 
greatly. 

"'Not to-night,’’ was the answer. "You’ve 
all the news I have an’ ’t is all good news. ’T is 
in my mind that Gettysburg and Vicksburg are 
the turnin’ points of the war. And ’t is the fine 
little man Grant is ! Sure the big wigs got tired 
waitin’ for the city to fall an’ sent the adjutant- 
gineral himself to remove him forninst Vicks- 
burg. Says Grant, 'Give me twinty-four hours 
and I ’ll give you Vicksburg!’ And he did!” 

Mr. O’Neil took a step up but turned again. 
"Some that ’s jealous of him told Lincoln he was 
naught but a drunkard. But old Abe wasn’t 
born yesterday. Sez he, anxious-like, 'Gintle- 
men, can you find out what brand o’ whiskey he 
drinks ? I’m thinkin’ it would be good to send 
some of it to all me other ginerals.’ Well,” he 
went on, eyeing them keenly for a moment, "if 
there ’s not a laugh to be got out of you, I ’ve an 
engagement with a young lady upstairs who is 
lookin’ for me this minute, God bless her. I ’ll 

125 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
not be denyin' to ye that I ’m impatient to have 
her arms around me neck. Sure you know how 
I 'm feeling after bein’ this long away from 
Nora.” 

Already Mr. O’Neil had climbed a half dozen 
steps, and, under the circumstances, his eagerness 
to go to see his daughter wrung Mr. Stetson’s 
heart. 

‘It ’s about Nora that I want to see you,” he 
insisted, following Mr. O’Neil up the stairs. 

Mr. O’Neil noted the seriousness of the other’s 
face and stopped short. 

“What about her ?” he demanded in a changed 
voice, as if he felt the coming of bad news. 

“She ’s not upstairs, Mr. O’Neil,” said Mr. 
Stetson gravely; “she — ” 

Mr. O’Neil’s face went chalky white and he 
clutched the rail of the stairway. 

“ ’T is ill she is ? Is that it ? Have ye taken 
her to a hospital? What is it, man?” he cried in 
a loud voice, lurching toward Mr. Stetson. 

“No, it is neither of those things,” answered 
the manager. “She went out this afternoon 
126 


NORA ASKS FOR A PRESENT 


alone and has not come back yet. We don’t 
know where she is.” 

Mr. O’Neil stared at the speaker as if he could 
not believe his ears, while those about the lobby 
of the hotel stood silent, scarcely breathing, so 
tense was the scene they looked at. 

''You say she was alone?” asked Mr. O’Neil in 
a husky voice, limping down the stair. "Alone? 
Why was that? Where was the governess? 
Where was William Kerrigan? Do they all 
leave her alone when I go away? Oh, I can’t 
believe it. ’T is some trick you ’re playin’, Mr. 
Stetson.” He looked keenly at the man before 
him and then burst out into a loud, heart-broken 
cry of pain. "Tell me ’t is just a trick you ’re 
playin’ me and that the child is upstairs this 
minute?” 

"No, no, Mr. O’Neil,” Mr. Stetson hastened to 
say. "I could n’t play a trick like that. Little 
Nora is gone. How she happened to be alone 
I know no more than you. The first word we 
had of her being out was from that newsboy, 
Johnny Clancy, whom she takes such an interest 
127 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


in. He told us of seeing her uptown, but he came 
here expecting she would have returned.’^ 

^'Where is he?'' asked Mr. O’Neil, who by a 
strong effort had controlled himself and was now 
making ready for action, though his face seemed 
to have aged many years since he had come into 
the hotel. ''Where is the boy?” 

"He has disappeared,” answered Mr. Stetson. 
"We had a disturbance out in the park here and 
expected to be attacked at any moment. While 
our attention was attracted in that direction the 
boy went away somewhere. No one seems to 
know what became of him.” 

"Well, what have you done?” demanded Mr. 
O’Neil. "Have the police been notified?” 

"The police are helpless, Mr. O’Neil,” replied 
Mr. Stetson. "The city is in the hands of the 
mob and will be until troops are sent here. 
Houses have been burned, stores looted, destruc- 
tion and crime have the upper hand.” 

"And my Nora is out in it !” The words came 
in a great cry of anguish from the distracted 
father. 


128 


NORA ASKS FOR A PRESENT 


At that moment a loud banging brought all eyes 
to the entrance of the hotel. Ryan fumbled with 
the fastenings, then opening the door a crack 
peered into the street. An instant later he gave 
a shout and flung it wide. 

.There on the threshold was Nora ! 

For a moment she stood blinking in the sudden 
glare of the brilliantly lighted lobby, a bedrag- 
gled little figure with a shy, embarrassed smile 
upon her lips. 

''Nonie ! Nonie came a cry from Mr. O’Neil 
as he limped forward, and the child with a look of 
glad surprise ran into his arms. 

‘'Why, ’t is Daddy !” she exclaimed as she 
hugged him. “Poor Daddy ! Did ye think I was 
losted? Sure ye must have grieved, and I 
thought ye ’d never know till it was all over.” 

She talked softly, patting her father and trying 
to soothe him, while he held her close, his heart 
too full to speak. 

“ ’T is queer how things turn out,” she went on. 
“The times I Ve been wantin’ ye to come and 
never a sight of ye, and to-day, the only time in 
129 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

me life I was ever glad ye were away, in ye pop 
to be worried. Poor Daddy! But don’t fret 
now. I ’m here safe and sound and as hungry as 
— as — an elephant, I ’m thinkin’.” 

'T ’ll fix that for you!” exclaimed Mr. Stetson, 
glad to relieve the tension. ‘T ’ll have supper 
sent up to your rooms at once,” and he gave the 
necessary orders. 

''Send enough for Johnny Clancy, too,” she 
called as she and her father started up the stairs. 
" ’T is him we have to thank that I ’m here at all. 
Where is the boy?” 

Johnny stepped forward from the entrance 
where he had been confiding to an admiring audi- 
ence something of the night’s adventures. 

"Come up with us,” she said to him, and Johnny 
followed obediently. 

The sudden change from despair to joy at her 
return had for the time being robbed Mr. O’Neil 
of any sensation except that of great thankful- 
ness that his darling was restored to him un- 
injured. Until they were in their rooms he had 
not realized that she was soaked with rain. 


NORA ASKS FOR A PRESENT 


^'Oh, me dear, me dear,’’ he murmured as he 
pressed her close. ‘Tt seemed as if me heart 
jumped into me throat and choked me when they 
told me ye was lost. But upon me word ye ’re 
soppin’ wet. Hurry into some dry clothes or 
ye ’ll catch your death o’ cold.” 

’T is Johnny needs lookin’ after more than 
me,” she answered. ‘‘And it ’s him ye have to 
thank for bringin’ your Nonie back to you. Get 
him some of your clothes. Daddy, while I ’m gone. 
Then we ’ll have supper together. I hope they 
send a lot, for never was I so hungry in all me 
life,” and she ran off, leaving Mr. O’Neil regard- 
ing Johnny, who smiled sheepishly. 

“Sure, I ’m all right, sir,” he said. “Don’t 
bother about me, I ’ll be dry in a minute.” But 
water trickling out of his shoes belied this 
assurance. 

Mr. O’Neil put his hand on the boy’s shoulder 
and found his coat wet through. 

“Dear land, lad, but you ’re soppin’. We must 
have a new outfit for ye entirely!” he exclaimed, 
and started for the bell-rope with the intention of 

131 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
sending a boy to buy Johnny all he needed. ‘T 
forgot/' he said and stopped. ‘‘ T will be im- 
possible to buy anything to-night/' he went on, 
then chuckled softly to himself. ‘^Never mind. 
Come with me. My clothes will be a fine easy 
fit for ye, but they 'll be better than wet ones," 
and he led the protesting Johnny into his own 
room and was soon busy dressing him as well 
as he could. 

It was a funny supper they had, sitting around 
the table that was pushed up to the sofa, on which 
Nora half lay and half sat. Opposite her was 
Johnny Clancy, arrayed in a dressing-wrapper of 
Mr. O'Neil's, below which his feet showed re- 
splendent, clad in socks many sizes too big for him 
and gay beaded slippers, so large that they would 
not stay on. Mr. O’Neil was between them, in- 
tent upon the tale they told and only putting in 
questions when all was not plain to him. As the 
story progressed he saw how serious Nora’s po- 
sition had been, especially after she had fallen into 
the clutches of Mrs. Donovan, and he murmured a 
prayer of thankfulness for her escape and a 
152 


NORA ASKS FOR A PRESENT 

blessing on the boy who had so bravely rescued 
her. 

‘'And to think/' exclaimed Nora, “that we was 
both listening to Mrs. Donovan! You at one 
door and me — I mean, I, at the other.” 

“Yes, but 't was when Micky came in that me 
heart went into me boots,” cried Johnny. “I 
thought fer sure he 'd see me, and I pressed back 
into the dark under that stairs just tremblin' 
with fear. He could have put out his hand an' 
touched me, but once he was inside the room I 
knew I was safe and I cut into the next house 
and through the fence the same way we came 
— Golly, but that 's a good puddin' 1” 

“I 'm that sorry about the ring,” Nora said, 
turning to her father. “But I 'm sure we 'll get 
it when we find Bebee.” 

“Don't be frettin' about it,” said Mr. O'Neil, 
reaching out and patting her hand. “There's 
loads of rings where that came from, Nonie 
darlin'. So long as you 're not hurted there 's 
nothing matters.” 

“Oh, but we 'll have it back," said Nora with 

133 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
assurance. 'To-morrow we must hunt for 
B^ee.’’ 

"Ye 'll never find her," said Johnny Clancy, 
positively. "It 's my belief she stole the ring." 

"Shame on ye, Johnny Clancy, to say such a 
thing!" cried Nora. "To accuse a poor child 
like that of stealin’." 

"But 't is only natural. Miss Nora," Johnny in- 
sisted. "What would an ignorant moke think 
of takin’ a ring? T is natural she 'd take it." 

"I 'll not believe it," declared Nora with equal 
seriousness, and then, with a shade of anxiety in 
her. voice, "you 're sure she 's a darky girl, 
Johnny?" 

"Aye, there 's no doubt of that," replied the boy. 
"Did n't she sneak out when they was burnin' the 
Colored Orphant 'Sylum? Is n't her mammy as 
black as coal ? Sure she 's a darky, though she 's 
one of them light complected ones, I 'll al- 
low." 

"Well, I hope so," said Nora, a little absently, 
almost as if speaking to herself. 

"Now why do ye be sayin' that?" demanded 

134 


NORA ASKS FOR A PRESENT 


her father with a look of surprise. 'It makes 
no differ to you.” 

"Oh, does n’t it, Daddy?” exclaimed Nora, with 
a shy little laugh at her father. "Oh, does n’t 
it? Faith, it makes a heap of difference.” 

"Well, it ’s time to go to bed anyway,” said Mr. 
O’Neil, getting up and ringing the bell to arrange 
for a room for Johnny. 

A little later he escorted the boy to it and saw 
that he had everything he needed. 

Johnny was a little awestruck at such magnifi- 
cence, but he was too tired to protest at anything 
that night. 

Before he went out Mr. O’Neil looked down at 
the lad safely tucked up in the bed. He stood 
there without speaking for what seemed a long 
time; then he broke the silence in a voice that 
showed how deeply he felt what he said. 

"I won’t insult ye, Johnny Clancy, by offerin’ 
ye money for doin’ what ye did this day for me 
daughter ; but ye ’ll not lack for a friend, and a 
good one, as long as Tim O’Neil is in the land 
of the livin’. There ’s a plan goin’ round in me 

135 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

head — but we 'll talk about that some other time. 
Meanwhile I thank ye with all me heart. There 's 
no words to tell what ye did for me, but there 's 
me hand." 

Johnny seized the broad, thick palm and shook 
it vigorously. 

‘There ain't no call to be doin’ anything for 
me, Mr. O’Neil," he said. “Sure I ’m owin’ that 
and more to Miss Nora, for the friend she ’s 
been to me this long time. Why, if it hadn’t 
been for her I ’d a-been bummin’ round like that 
gang o’ Micky’s, doin’ no good to meself, nor no- 
body else, and headin’ straight for jail. And 
then, too, Mr. O’Neil, anybody that knowed her 
and her kindness, and the cheerful way she do be 
findin’ fault, correctin’ this and that till you ’re 
fair ’mazed tryin’ to remember, sure any one 
would do what I done ; and I ’m not lookin’ f er 
thanks at all, at all." 

“ ’T is a brave lad ye are, and good night to 
ye," with which the gentleman left him. 

When Mr. O’Neil reentered his own rooms, 
Nora was in bed, and he sat down in a chair at 
136 



“Tm wanting just one little slave" 









NORA ASKS FOR A PRESENT 

her side, taking a hand that lay outside the cov- 
ers. 

‘‘Have ye found out aught about the little lady 
Lady Castleton’s lookin’ for?” asked Nora. 

“Not a word as yet,” answered Mr. O’Neil. 
“I misdoubt ’twill take a long time with this 
cruel war goin’ on, but I ’ve set men on the track 
and I ’m hopin’ we ’ll hear news of her soon.” 

For a while they sat in silence. Mr. O’Neil 
looking down at Nora’s closed eyes was sure she 
was asleep, but suddenly they opened drowsily. 

“Daddy?” 

“Yes, Nonie dear.” 

“Would ye be pleasin’ me more than I can tell 
ye?” 

“Oh, me darlin’, if there ’s anything you ’re 
wishful of, you ’ve only to tell me and ’t is 
yours.” 

“There ’s somethin’ I ’ve been longin’ for, and 
I never knew what it was,” murmured Nora. 
“ ’T is a fine big present I ’m askin’.” 

“You ’ve only to tell me, Nonie,” said her fa- 
ther, leaning half across the bed. 

139 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
T is that I ’m wantin’ just — one — little — 
slave,” came the half-whispered answer, and Nora 
dropped off into a sound sleep. 

Mr. O’Neil looked at her for a long time with 
an expression of blank amazement on his face 
and presently tiptoed out of the room. 


140 


CHAPTER XI 


A TEA-PARTY 

M r. O’NEIL awoke at his usual time the 
next’ morning and, finding that Nora still 
slept soundly, he went across the hall to see how 
Johnny Clancy fared. 

That young man was dressed in his own clothes 
and sitting, not too comfortably on the edge of a 
chair, in the splendid room, awaiting a summons. 

^‘Did ye sleep?” asked Mr. O’Neil kindly, seat- 
ing himself and regarding Johnny with interest. 

''Sure, like a top,” answered Johnny, "though 
’t is too grand a place for the likes of me. I 
never knew there was such soft beds.” 

Mr. O’Neil nodded absently. 

"I ’ve been thinkin’ about you,” he said, slowly 
and thoughtfully ; "I ’ve made up me mind what ’s 
the best thing I can do for ye. I ’m goin’ to see to 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
your education and give ye the finest that money 
can buy/' 

Johnny's face fell. 

‘"Does that mean goin' to school?" he asked 
in a rather dismal tone. 

‘'Aye, it does, and I see ye don't like the no- 
tion," Mr. O'Neil replied. “Well, when I was 
your age I did n't like school neither. 'T was 
only when I grew up, and did n’t have much edu- 
cation to speak of, that I found out what I 'd 
missed and could never get. If it had n't been 
for the kindest lady that ever lived I wouldn't 
have had any learnin’ at all. I wouldn't have 
been able to so much as read an' write. Sure, I 
was no better off than you. A poor boy, without 
mother or father, runnin' the streets and hatin' 
school like poison." 

“I 'd rather be sellin' papers," said Johnny 
wistfully, looking out of the window. 

“Aye, 't is likely. Sure I don't expect you, a 
boy, to be thinkin' like me, a man," said Mr. 
O'Neil. “ 'T would n't be natural. 'T was the 
same with me and Miss Eileen. ‘To school ye 
142 


A TEA-PARTY 


go, Tim O’Neil,’ was her very words, and I went. 
I could do no less, seein’ that she ’d been feedin’ 
me when I was hungry and fixin’ me clothes and 
motherin’ me, so to speak.” 

‘"Sure, she must have been like Miss Nora,” 
exclaimed Johnny, brightening. 

‘‘ ’T was after her I named the child,” said Mr. 
O’Neil in a reminiscent tone. 

‘‘And did she order ye to do this and that 
whether ye liked it or no?” questioned Johnny 
enthusiastically. 

“She did that,” answered Mr. O’Neil. “And 
scold! My, my, how quick she was with her 
tongue and what a fiery bit of a temper she had. 
Many ’s the round box on the ear she gave me, 
bless her kind heart.” 

Mr. O’Neil’s thoughts went back over the past, 
and Johnny sat looking out of the window with- 
out speaking. 

“Is it your intintion to tell Miss Nora about 
sendin’ me to school?” he asked presently. 

“Sure,” replied Mr. O’Neil, with a glance of 
surprise at the boy. 


143 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘Then 'twill be useless to be arguin',” said 
Johnny resignedly. “She 's been at me about 
school this long time, and now I 'll be havin' no 
excuse to keep out. She 's not one to be put off, 
sir.'' 

“That 's true enough,'' assented Mr. O'Neil 
gravely, “and we 'll call it settled. When things 
are all right again in the city here I 'll be askin' 
some of me acquaintances what is the best school 
for ye, and other things I ddh’t know meself. 
And, Johnny,'' he ended impressively, “I hope 
ye 'll take advantage of it.” 

“Oh, if I must go, I 'll not have the money 
wasted,” the boy told him earnestly. “ 'T will be 
hard, bein' kep' indoors all day ; but I 'll get what 
I can out of it. I 'll promise ye that, Mr. O'Neil.” 

“ 'T is me wish to give ye the best thing in me 
power,” said Mr. O'Neil. “Ye deserve all of that. 
And now let 's have something to eat.” 

Out of consideration for Johnny, Mr. O'Neil 
had ordered their breakfast served in their own 
parlor, and by the time the table was ready Nora 
appeared, as if she had never had the exciting 
144 


A TEA-PARTY 


experiences o£ the previous day. She flew to her 
father and flung her arms about him joyfully. 

‘'Oh, Daddy, 't is good to have you home !” she 
exclaimed, then to Johnny Clancy, “Good mornin’, 
Johnny. I see your coat needs mendin’ 
again.” 

“Sure, ye need n’t be mindin’ his coat,” said Mr. 
O’Neil with a laugh. “Just as soon as the stores 
are ready to do business we ’ll have a new outfit 
for the boy. Tell me, has that French mam’selle 
of yours come in yet? ’T is in me mind to tell 
her what I think of her for lettin’ you go off alone 
like that.” 

“Indeed ye ’ll do nothin’ of the kind,” returned 
Nora positively. “ ’T was not her fault in the 
least. I said she might go home, thinkin’ to go 
to the Fifth Avenue Hotel with William, as I told 
you, and then I changed me mind. ’T is not 
her fault at all, at all, and I ’ll not have her 
scolded.” 

Mr. O’Neil and Johnny exchanged glances and 
the latter turned away to hide a smile. 

“But sure some one should be scolded for yes- 
I4S 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


terday’s work/' Mr. O'Neil insisted. ‘'Can ye 
say nobody was at fault for your going through 
what ye did ?" 

“No, — there 's one," acknowledged Nora, de- 
murely. 

“Give me the name and I 'll see that it does n't 
happen again," said Mr. O'Neil grimly. 

“Sure, her name is Nora," replied that pert 
young person with a smile. “Sometimes her fa- 
ther calls her 'Nonie.' Will ye be scoldin' her? 
She 's just tremblin' with fear." 

“The fault is all with that colored girl ye 
stopped with," Johnny declared. “Ye had no 
call to do it, and, had ye left her, I 'd have got ye 
safe home and no trouble at all." 

“And would ye have had me give up the child 
to those bad boys, Johnny Clancy?" demanded 
Nora with some heat. 

“Sure nothing would have happened her," he 
answered. “Micky wanted the ring and would n't 
have bothered her again; but now the darky girl 
has it, and there 's dn end to it." 

“Ah now, don't be sayin' that," Nora replied 
146 


A TEA-PARTYi 

pleadingly. Ve been expectin’ you ’d be out 
lookin’ for her the minute you finished your 
breakfast.” 

^'Me lookin’ for a darky, is it?” cried Johnny, 
laying down his knife and fork, and regarding 
Nora with astonishment. lookin’ — sure, 

I ’ve other things to do !” 

‘‘I ’m disappointed in you, Johnny Clancy,” said 
Nora. ‘1 thought you ’d be wantin’ to find the 
beautiful ring me father gave me, and I see ye 
don’t care at all that I ’ve lost it.” 

^'Sure I do want to find the ring,” returned 
Johnny, indignantly. 

''And ye can’t find that without findin’ Bebee,” 
retorted Nora. 

"Indeed, and that ’s so,” agreed the boy, and 
Mr. O’Neil looked at him and winked meaningly. 
"I ’ll hand her over to the police,” added Johnny, 
irritated by the wink. 

"You ’ll bring her here,” said Nora. "I ’d not 
be trustin’ the police with that fine ring.” 

And so the matter was settled and shortly 
Johnny went off to hunt for Bebee. 

147 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘^But mind/’ were his last words, as he went 
out of the door of the parlor, '' ’t is the ring I ’m 
lookin’ for, not the darky girl. I wouldn’t be 
tryin’ to find her if I knew where she was.” 

For Nora and her father the day passed 
quietly enough, though they were forced to stay 
indoors on account of the confusion that existed 
in the city. The looting and riots were unabated, 
and those who had anything to lose stayed at 
home. 

Although she was extremely happy to have her 
father with her, it was plain to Mr. O’Neil that 
Nora had half her mind upon Johnny Clancy and 
his success in finding the missing child and, as 
the afternoon drew to a close without any sign 
of the boy, she began to worry. 

‘'Don’t be frettin’ over Johnny Clancy, dear,” 
said her father. “He ’s a boy and can take care 
of himself, come what may.” 

“ ’T is Bebee I ’m thinkin’ of,” answered Nora, 
going to the window and looking out. “ ’T is 
awful for a child like that to be alone in the 
street at such a time.” 


148 


A TEA-PARTY 


'‘Sure no one will molest a little colored girl/' 
said Mr. O'Neil. 

" 'T is because of her color they were stonin' 
her yesterday," insisted Nora. " 'T is to free the 
slaves, they say, that they have to fight, so if 
they kill all the negroes there won't be any more 
war." 

"Nonsense!" said Mr. O'Neil angrily. " ’T is 
to save the Union this war is bein' fought. Do 
you think that for anything less our soldiers would 
have suffered what they have at Fort Sumter an' 
Bull Run an' Fredericksburg, an’ Chancellors- 
ville? To be sure we fought a kind of a draw at 
Antietam, an' we won at Shiloh, an' New Orleans, 
an' other places I could mention; but, between 
the good soldiers in front of 'em and the meddlin' 
politicians behind 'em, our armies has had a hard 
time of it. Indeed 't is more than a rumor that 
Gineral Grant cut the telegraph lines back of him 
to prevint his gettin' any new orders from Wash- 
ington till Vicksburg had fallen. Sure these 
street orators gabbin' at the corners but make 
trouble with their talk. Most of 'em is paid be 
149 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

the South to stir up our people against the ne- 
groes, and to blame all the war on them. 
There ’s plenty of Southern agitators in the town, 
and mark me words, these riots may be laid to 
their door.” 

‘T Ve no manner of doubt you Te right, 
Daddy,” said Nora, rather indifferently, ''but I do 
wish Johnny Clancy would not be so long findin’ 
the child.” 

Meanwhile Johnny was dodging about the 
streets in the thick of the riot. He was among 
the turbulent throng that trod on the heels of 
two companies of veteran troops up Broadway, 
hooting and groaning at them. He looked curi- 
ously at the cavalry encamped in Madison 
Square, which had been brought there to protect 
the Fifth Avenue Hotel. He ran to fires, he fol- 
lowed the idle crowds hither and yon, and nar- 
rowly escaped injury when it became necessary 
to break up some of the most violent bands by 
the free use of cannister; but he always kept an 
eye open for Bebee. Nor did he forget Micky 
Donovan and his gang. He had no desire to fall 
150 


A TEA-PARTY 


into their hands just yet, so he made himself in- 
conspicuous by sticking close to the crowd, hoping 
that good luck might put him in the way of the 
missing child. 

He was lingering outside the Fifth Avenue 
Hotel, wishing, boy-like, that something exciting 
would happen, when a small, bedraggled figure 
crept up to the entrance and spoke to a man stand- 
ing on the steps. After a moment she turned 
dejectedly away and walked slowly and uncer- 
tainly toward the Park. 

Johnny stared at the unkempt little girl and 
then darted across the street after her. In a 
moment he had laid a hand on her arm. 

The child with a frightened glance over her 
shoulder leaped to one side and started to run 
away. 

'"Oh, no, ye don’t!’’ cried Johnny, grasping her 
tightly. 

''Oh!” exclaimed Bebee, her face lighting up 
as she recognized him. "I am glad — for now you 
will tell me where to find my mammy.” 

"Save us, but you ’re the cool one !” said Johnny 

151 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

with admiration. ''First ye try to run from me, 
and then ye make a show of being glad to see 
me. Faith, you're smart and no mistake, but 
I 'm wantin’ to see how you ’ll act when ye see 
Miss Nora.” 

"Is she safe?” inquired Bebee. 

"Safe as a bank,” answered Johnny. 

"Oh, I ’m so glad.” Bebee’s relief was evident. 
"I asked for her at the big hotel, where you 
said she was to go, and they had not seen her. 
I ’m very happy if she ’s safe. Now where 
is my mammy? You promised to take me to 
her.” 

For a moment Johnny was embarrassed. He 
had little doubt that the colored woman had been 
severely dealt with by the mob. She might even 
be dead, but he had not the heart to tell her child 
so. Miss Nora would be better able to break it 
to her. 

"All right,” he said rather gruffly, "come along, 
I ’ll take you to her.” 

He salved his conscience by saying to himself 
that "her” meant Miss Nora, and if the child 
152 


THE TEA-PARTY 

thought he was talking of her ^'Mommer’’ it was 
not his fault. 

'Ts — is it very far asked Bebee, and added in 
a weak voice, ‘T ’m so tired.’' 

Johnny eyed her suspiciously. Was she trying 
to make him feel sure of her while she waited for 
an opportunity to run? 

'Tt 's quite a ways from here,” he answered, 
‘'and there ain’t no cars goin’,” but as he spoke, a 
stage came rattling along under a strong guard 
and he pulled her in its direction. “Come, we ’ll 
go in that !” but the girl held back obstinately. 

“I have no money to pay for riding,” she said. 

“I ’ll pay,” returned Johnny, but this had no 
effect on Bebee. 

“I don’t know whether Mammy could pay you 
back,” she answered, with a proud toss of her 
head. “I ’d rather walk, thank you,” and by that 
time the stage had passed out of their reach. 

Johnny stopped and regarded her slyly. 

“You ’re thinkin’ you ’d have less chance to get 
away from me in the stage,” he said with a stern 
look at the child, “but' don’t get that notion into 
IS3 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
your head. I 'll have me eye on ye, never 
fear." 

Beb& looked at him in surprise. 

‘T 'll not run away from you," she told him a 
little wearily. 

‘'Sure I know you won’t," said Johnny, with ex- 
aggerated sarcasm, and the two started to make 
their way to the Astor House. 

It was nearly dark when they reached their des- 
tination and Johnny made straight for the O'Neil 
parlor, where after knocking and receiving per- 
mission to enter, he opened the door and thrust 
Bebee in ahead of him. 

“Here she is !" he exclaimed triumphantly, and 
stepping in himself, closed the door behind him 
and stood in front of it. 

Bebee gave one bewildered look about her, then 
with a cry of helplessness sank down in a heap 
on the floor. 

“Oh, where is my mammy?" she moaned. 

“Bebee ! Bebee !" cried Nora running across the 
room, and dropping on her knees beside the pros- 
trate figure. “I ’m so glad you 've come. I 've 

154 


A TEA-PARTY 

been frettin’ for fear I ’d lost you. What is it, 
dearie?'’ 

Bebee had staggered to her feet and turned to- 
ward the door. 

‘'Mammy! Mammy!" she wailed piteously. 
‘T must find my mammy." 

"No, ye don't," cried Johnny Clancy, as he 
barred her way out of the room. "Here ye stay 
till ye give Miss Nora her ring. Make her give 
it to ye," he ended, addressing Nora. 

At Johnny's words Bebee seemed to rouse her- 
self. 

"I 'd forgotten the ring," she said, turning 
slowly to Nora; and she staggered and would 
have fallen had Mr. O'Neil not caught her. 

"Sure the child is weak with hunger !" he ex- 
claimed, taking her up in his arms and carrying 
her to the sofa, where he laid her tenderly. "Call 
mam'selle, Nora, and find seme food." 

Nora had rung the bell ere the sentence was fin- 
ished. At the word "hunger" she suddenly re- 
alized that in all probability Bthte had had noth- 
ing to eat since she had seen her. 

iSS 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘The poor, poor baby,’’ she murmured to her- 
self and gave the bell-rope another vigorous pull. 

Bebee, however, had pushed herself up to a 
sitting position and was shaking her head. 

‘T ’m entirely well,” she insisted, feebly. ‘T 
only want my mammy. He told me he would 
bring me to her,” and she pointed an accusing 
finger at Johnny. 

“Where is her mother?” demanded Mr. O’Neil, 
sternly, the sight of the child’s evident suffering 
arousing his sympathy. 

“Sure I don’t know where her mother is, Mr. 
O’Neil,” the embarrassed boy attempted to ex- 
plain. “Leastwise I don’t know where she is to- 
day. I can find her if you give me time. I ’m 
great at findin’ things.” 

“Oh, what shall I do?” moaned Bebee. 
“Mammy must be mighty worried about me. I 
must go and hunt for her,” and she attempted to 
rise. 

“Don’t you let her go. Miss Nora,” said 
Johnny. “She ’s tryin’ — ” 

“Daddy!” cried Nora, in an authoritative voice, 
156 


A TEA-PARTY 


‘'take Johnny Clancy away from here and leave 
me with Bebee/’ 

“We Te not wanted, Johnny, said Mr. O’Neil, 
“so we ’ll be goin’,” and he pushed the boy ahead 
of him out of the room. 

Nora bent over Bebee, who, after a vain effort 
to get to her feet, fell back against the cushions of 
the sofa. 

“I can’t think what ’s come over me,” she said 
weakly. 

“When did you have your dinner ?” asked Nora. 

“It does n’t matter,” answered Bebee, with in- 
difference. “Mammy will give me something to 
eat when I find her.” 

Just then Mam’selle came in to ask what was 
wanted and Nora gave her orders hurriedly. 

“Bring me milk and cakes and tea and jam,” 
she burst out, shoving Mam’selle toward the door. 
“Don’t wait for hot things, but send the milk at 
once.” 

“I shall not eat your food,” cried Bebee in an 
hostile voice, while two pink spots burned on her 
olive cheeks. “I ’m not a beggar.” 

157 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

Instantly Nora saw what was in the child’s 
mind. 

‘'Sure you would n’t be unkind and not share 
me little tea-party,” said Nora coaxingly. ’T is 
a fine excuse, havin’ you here, for Daddy’s no 
hand at tea at all and I just love it. When I 
saw ye step in at the door my heart just leaped 
for joy to think I could have a cup and maybe a 
cracker or two and a glass of milk. ’T is so 
seldom I have the chance. You would n’t be dis- 
appointin’ me now, I know.” 

The soft, coaxing, Irish voice had its effect and 
the tangled black head sank back against the anti- 
macassar, while Nora busied herself in arrang- 
ing a table near the sofa and getting things 
ready. 

A little later Mam’selle hurried in with the 
tray but Nora had no thought of having her 
governess about, and quickly sent her off for 
other things. Then she drew up a chair opposite 
Bebee. 

“ ’T is good milk they have in this place,” she 
said, pouring out a glass for each of them. “Tell 
158 


A TEA-PARTY 


me now, did ye ever taste better?’’ and she put 
her own glass to her lips. 

Poor little Bebee! With an effort not to seem 
too hungry, she raised the glass and ere she set 
it down had drained it. So evident was it that 
she was half-starved that tears came into Nora’s 
eyes and she had to turn away her head to hide 
her feelings. 

‘Tt ’s very good milk,” said Bebee as she put the 
glass on the table, ‘'and I was very thirsty.” She 
didn’t ask for any more nor did Nora at that 
moment fill her glass again. That was done a 
little later without any comment. 

Then in the most tactful way, laughing and 
chattering all the time, though her heart was 
sore for the hungry girl before her, Nora pre- 
vailed upon her to eat. All that Bebee did was 
done as a favor to her, and when, after they had 
been eating cakes, Mam’selle brought in two 
plates of hot soup, Nora still complained that 
she felt hungry. 

“Sure I never ate soup for dessert before, and 
I ’m sure you did n’t, but I ’m fair ravenous this 

159 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
day/’ she commented, blowing on a spoonful, ^'and 
Bebee dear,” she leaned forward and whispered 
to her visitor, ''do me the favor just to stuff your- 
self and keep me in countenance before Mam’selle. 
T is shamed I ’d feel, eatin’ all alone, and she 
lookin’ at me.” 

And thus persuaded Bebee ate her soup to the 
last drop. 

A little later she suddenly rose. "Thank you 
for a delightful time,” she said, quite formally, 
with the slightest of bows to Nora. "I must be 
going now, but it was such a pleasant tea-party.” 


i6o 


CHAPTER XII 

WHERE IS THE RING? 

A S Bebee started for the door Mr. O’Neil 
and Johnny Clancy came in. 

''Sure you ’re lookin’ better already,” said Mr. 
O’Neil, kindly to Bebee. "What you needed — ” 
but Nora cut him short. 

"Oh, we ’ve had the finest tea-party ye ever 
saw, though, to be sure, Bebee’s appetite could n’t 
compare with mine. I thought I ’d never get 
enough.” 

"I must go now,” Bebee insisted, moving for- 
ward. 

"Oh, but ye can’t,” cried Nora, putting an arm 
about her. '^The streets are dangerous, aren’t 
they. Daddy?” and Nora shook her head mean- 
ingly at her father. 

"The streets are somethin’ terrible!” declared 

i6i 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


Mr. O’Neil, with conviction. ''A policeman 
would n’t be safe abroad this night. Ye ’ll be 
stayin’ with us till mornin’, anyways,” he added 
to Bebee. 

'T must find my mammy,” she answered posi- 
tively, and then, addressing Johnny Clancy, ‘'You 
said you could find her.” 

“So I can,” he replied, “but you must give me 
time.” 

“She must be so worried,” sighed Bebee. 

“Me dear,” said Mr. O’Neil, putting his hand 
gently on the child’s shoulder, “leave us to find 
your mammy. You could n’t do it to-night your- 
self, and I ’ll see that Johnny starts a search for 
her the first thing to-morrow.” 

“And I ’ll get the ring at the same time if ye tell 
me where you’ve hid it,” said Johnny trucu- 
lently. 

“Oh, yes, the ring,” murmured Bebee, and a 
worried and anxious look came into the drawn 
little face. “I must go,” she insisted. 

“Ye ’ll not go till ye tell where that ring is,” 
declared Johnny aggressively. 

162 


WHERE IS THE RING? 

Bebee shrank from him with evident distaste. 
‘T will get it as soon as I can/’ she said, '‘only 
you must let me go myself.” 

Johnny laughed derisively. "And never come 
back,” he grunted. 

"Will you keep quiet, Johnny Clancy!” Nora 
cried angrily. " T is my ring, and I ’ll not have 
the child bothered with it.” 

"And I ’ll not have her go out in the streets 
this night, ring or no ring,” declared Mr. O’Neil 
positively. "I couldn’t make it right with me 
conscience.” 

"But you don’t understand,” moaned Bebee, 
turning a pair of imploring eyes to him. "I must 

"Is it on account of the ring?” asked Nora, and 
Bebee nodded. 

"You lost it? Is that it?” she went on. 

"No,” said Bebee, "I did n’t lose it.” 

"Then where is it?” cried Johnny. "Tell me 
that, and I ’ll soon have it.” 

"If it ’s worry in’ ye, me child, tell us what ye 
did with it and we ’ll be findin’ it for ye,” said Mr. 

163 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


O’Neil soothingly, ''but I could n’t be lettin’ ye go 
out this night.” 

"But how would you know which dog it was?” 
Bebee asked wearily, sitting down on a chair from 
sheer exhaustion. "There ’re so many dogs in 
this town.” 

The other three looked at each other in aston- 
ishment, shaking their heads wonderingly. 

"Me dear,” said Mr. O’Neil to Bebee, "don’t 
worry your little brain any more. Sure you ’re 
wore out and don’t know what you ’re sayin’. 
Nonie darlin’, take her into your room and let 
mam’selle give her a warm bath and put her to 
bed. ’T is rest she needs, and we ’ll talk about 
the ring in the mornin’.” . 

Bebee flushed and stood up. 

"I would have been quite clean except that I 
lost my mammy,” she half sobbed. Nora put an 
arm about her and led her from the room. 

"Of course you ’d have been clean, dearie,” she 
crooned. "You ’re nothing to what I was when I 
got here. You should have seen me. I was in 
a pickle !” and the door closed behind them, while 
164 


WHERE IS THE RING? 

Mr. O’Neil and Johnny Clancy stood looking on. 

‘Dogs/ ” Mr. O’Neil murmured, '^the poor 
child is nigh losin’ her reason. ‘Rings and dogs,’ 
poor baby !” 

“She ’s foolin’ ye,” said Johnny Clancy. 
“She’s not so simple as she makes out to be. 
Miss Nora had better lock up her jewelry. The 
ring ’s gone anyway, and she ’s sold it, I ’ll be 
bound.” 

“Johnny, you ’re a fool,” declared Mr. O’Neil 
gently. “Is it likely the child would starve with 
money in her pocket got from sellin’ the ring?” 

“She ’s give it to her mammy,” insisted 
Johnny, stubbornly. 

“Then go out and find her mammy,” suggested 
Mr. O’Neil. “ ’T is plain the child wants her, and 
you’re the only one who has seen her. Do ye 
think ye would know her again ?” 

“Certain sure I ’d know her,” answered Johnny. 
“And I ’ll try, too.” 

“That ’s a good lad,” said Mr. O’Neil. “Take 
care of yourself, though I ’m not much afraid of 
your getting harmed. I ’ve arranged for ye to 
165 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


sleep here in the hotel. And Johnny/' he added, 
as the boy was making for the door, ‘'get over 
your notion that the child stole the ring. When 
you 're as old as me you 'll be able to tell honesty 
when ye see it, no matter what circumstances may 
be against it. There 's somethin' in the look of 
an honest person, be it man, woman, or child. 
You 're a good boy but ye 've a lot to learn yet." 

“Maybe," answered Johnny, “I 'll say nothin’ 
more, but I 've got me own opinion all the same," 
and he went out. 

Mr. O'Neil seated himself in his favorite chair. 

“I wonder whose child she can be?" he mur- 
mured thinking of Bebee. “Sure, 't is a queer 
world we 're livin’ in," and he puzzled over the 
matter till at last Nora came softly out of her 
room and ran to him. 

“I 've put her to bed," she whispered. “The 
poor baby was dead beat. I wish you could see 
her. Daddy. She 's the prettiest little thing in 
the world. Do ye think ye could take a peep 
without disturbin’ her, through the doorway 
just?" 


i66 


WHERE IS THE RING? 


'We won't risk wakin' her. Come in me lap 
and talk to me," answered Mr. O'Neil, and Nora 
nestled in his arms. 

"She 's a queer little thing," Nora went on, still 
full of Bebee. "And that sensitive you 'd hardly 
believe it, considerin' what she is. Why, when I 
was givin' her her bath — " 

"What call had you to give her a bath," Mr. 
O'Neil cut in. "What was Mam'selle doin' ?" 

"Faith, I sent her home in no time," answered 
Nora with a hint of resentment in her voice. 
"Sure Bebee is beautiful, no one knows that bet- 
ter than me — I mean, I. But I 'm not goin' to 
have notions put into her head to make her vain. 
Mam'selle was all of a flutter over her. 'T was 
'such hair,' and 'such eyes,' and 'such dimples,' 
and 'such a skin,' till ye 'd think she 'd gone crazy. 
'T is true enough she 's a beautiful child; but I 'll 
be tellin' her things 't is good for her to know, 
and I won't have her spoiled before her time. 
'T is a thing ye may be rememberin' yourself. 
Daddy. 'T is bad, flatterin' a child." 

"I 've no intention of spoilin' her," answered 
167 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
Mr. O’Neil meekly. 'T Ve been thinkin’ ’t will 
be best to have her stay with Mam’selle till we 
find her own people.” 

‘"Now where would be the sense of that?” de- 
manded Nora. ‘'Such queer notions as men do 
get sometimes !” 

“But sometimes they look ahead a bit, Nonie 
darlin’,” answered her father, hugging her close 
to him. “Ye see, dearie, I Ve a notion ye might 
get too fond of little Bebee.” 

“Too fond of her?” questioned Nora. 

“ ’T is nothing against the child, I ’m thinkin’,” 
said Mr. O’Neil, “but of my Nonie. Ye see, after 
ye began to love the child, ye ’d be pretty sore 
in your heart to have her parents turn up and 
take her from ye. Now would n’t ye?” 

Nora snuggled closer and put her head against 
her father’s cheek. 

“I Ve thought of that,” she said softly. 

“Oh, have ye?” said he, in a tone of sur- 
prise. 

Nora nodded her head and for a moment or two 
was silent. 


WHERE IS THE RING? 

‘‘Daddy/’ she began finally, “will ye always be 
stayin’ with me now?” 

“No, darlin’, I can’t promise that till the war is 
over,” answered Mr. O’Neil, stroking her hair. 

“Then your winnin’ at Vicksburg does n’t end 
it? I was hopin’ it would.” 

“I ’m afraid not,” answered Mr. O’Neil. “The 
poor boys in the South is fightin’ for all they have 
in the world and ’twill be bitter. They won’t 
give up yet.” 

“And ye ’ll leave me alone with Mam’selle, for 
dear knows how long?” sighed Nora. 

“I must go if I ’m needed,” her father ex- 
plained, “ye know that, darlin’. I ’ve got me plain 
duty, just as if I was a soldier, and at least ye 
can be sure me life ’s not in danger.” 

“But I ’m so lonely when you ’re gone. Daddy. 
Could n’t ye send a substitute ? Other men do.” 

Mr. O’Neil threw back his head and laughed. 

“Ye ’re a keen one, Nonie,” he cried admir- 
ingly, “but ’t is me experience that ’s valuable, not 
me life, and I can’t get a substitute for that.” 

“Well, then,” said Nora, wriggling a little in 
169 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


his arms, ‘'perhaps you could buy a substitute to 
stay with me/' 

“Buy a substitute for your father !" exclaimed 
Mr. O'Neil, opening wide his eyes. “Nonie, 't is 
the queer creature ye are." 

“Oh, 't is not a substitute father, I 'm wantin'," 
she laughed back. “There could n't be anything 
as great as that — but a substitute companion 
might be managed. Some one I could love and 
take care of and — and — oh. Daddy, when you 're 
gone I 've nothin’ to warm me heart. Mam'- 
selle 's kind and all that ; but you could n't love 
her, could ye. Daddy ?" 

“No, I don't think ye could," admitted Mr. 
O'Neil. 

“Then do you mind what I was askin' you for 
last night?" Nora murmured. 

“Was it another ring?" he asked, forgetting. 

Nora shook her head. 

“No, I have jewelry enough." 

“Then 1 can't think what it was, but I tell ye 
now 't is yours if money can buy it," said Mr. 
O'Neil. 

170 


WHERE IS THE RING? 


is a little slave of me own, I want you to 
buy me,’’ Nora answered earnestly. ‘Then when 
you ’re gone I can take care of her and — and, oh. 
Daddy, you see it would be finer than any dog, 
don’t you ?” 

“Nora dear, ’t is out of the question,” answered 
Mr. O’Neil. “Don’t you know the President has 
issued orders against it?” 

“How would Mr. Lincoln find out about me 
havin’ just one little slave. Daddy?” Nora pleaded. 
“Sure, he can’t have time to be lookin’ everywhere. 
He ’d never know. Please, Daddy, ’t is the only 
thing I ever asked ye for.” 

“Ah, but dearie,” answered Mr. O’Neil, realiz- 
ing by the child’s earnestness how seriously she 
had set her heart on this, “now that the Presi- 
dent has issued his Emancipation Proclamation 
ye could n’t find a slave to buy.” 

“Oh, I ’ve found one already,” cried Nora. 
“She ’s asleep in my bed. The very dearest little 
slave in all the world ! ” 

Mr. O’Neil sat up straight and looked at Nora 
attentively. 

171 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘"Me dear child/' he said gravely, "'did you 
really think little Bebee was a colored girl?" 

“Why, yes. Daddy," answered Nora, a doubtful 
look coming into her face. “Johnny said she was, 
and all the boys said so, and her mother 's as black 
as coal and — " 

“Nonie dear, little Bebee is as white as we are. 
There 's no doubt of that," answered Mr. O'Neil 
positively. 

“Oh," said Nora, half to herself, “I wonder 
what difference that will make?" 

Before Mr. O'Neil could reply, there came a 
knock at the door. Lady Castleton’s card was 
handed to him, and a few minutes later she was 
ushered in. 

“I 've such a curious matter to tell you about," 
she began at once. “I 've been trying to get in 
touch with you all day." She fumbled for a 
moment in her reticule and then held something 
out in her hand. 

“Isn't this Nora's diamond ring?" she asked. 


CHAPTER XIII 


HOW BEBEE MET THE DUKE 

F or a moment or two Nora and her father 
gazed at the ring held out in Lady Castle- 
ton’s fingers as if they could not believe their eyes. 
It was as if it had suddenly dropped from the 
skies. Presently Nora took the ring and exam- 
ined it while her father looked over her shoulder. 

''Sure ’t is the same one,” said Mr. O’Neil at 
last, in an awed voice. "Did the child give it to 
ye?” 

"No child gave it to me,” answered Lady Cas- 
tleton. 

"Oh, then you found it?” asked Nora quickly. 
"No, it was the Duke who found it, if you can 
call it finding,” Lady Castleton replied. 

"Ye mind she said something of dogs and I 
thought her crazed with weariness!” exclaimed 
Mr. O’Neil to Nora. 


173 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

''Oh, please sit down, Lady Castleton, and tell 
us all about it,’’ begged Nora, pushing up a chair 
invitingly. 

"Fortunately for you, my maid Edmonds is an 
honest woman,” Lady Castleton began, when she 
was comfortably seated. "When she was comb- 
ing the Duke, on their return from a little walk 
before he went to bed, she found this ring on a 
gold chain fastened around his neck. She came 
running in to me, with her eyes bulging, as well 
they might, holding out the ring as if it would 
bite. I recognized it at once as the elegant mon- 
strosity you had given Nora some time ago.” 
This last remark she made directly to Mr. O’Neil, 
but that gentleman was quite oblivious to the im- 
plied criticism of the appropriateness of his gift. 

"I thought Nora must have put it on him in 
play and forgotten it; but Edmonds assured me 
that he was not wearing it when she had given 
him his afternoon brushing,” Lady Castleton con- 
tinued, "so I was at sea again.” 

"The whole thing seems like a miracle to me,” 
Mr. O’Neil ejaculated. "To think that of all the 

174 


HOW BEBEE MET THE DUKE 

dogs in New York she should have hit on this 
one/' 

‘^She?" questioned Lady Castleton. ‘'Do you 
mean Nora?" 

“Have her in, Nonie," commanded her father, 
“I 'm burstin' with curiosity to know how the 
ring came to be round the neck of that dog." 

“But, Daddy, she 's asleep," protested Nora. 

“That 's so," agreed Mr. O'Neil rather reluc- 
tantly, “we must let it go till mornin', for the 
poor child was dead beat and no mistake." 

“Who is she?" demanded Lady Castleton. 
“This child you speak of." 

But when Mr. O'Neil and Nora, the latter very 
voluble and excited, told all they knew of Bebee, 
Lady Castleton seemed indifferent. She agreed 
that it was strange that the ring should have come 
back as it had, but further than that she showed 
little interest, her mind was on other matters. 

“Some poor street child," she said at the end; 
“she probably did n't know its value, and I think 
you are extremely lucky to get it back again. You 
must tell me some day how it happened to find 
I7S 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


its way around the Duke’s neck. And, by the 
way, the chain it was hung on was broken. Ed- 
monds found it so twisted that it parted while 
she was removing it. I sent it to Tiffany’s to be 
mended.” 

‘'Sure your ladyship need n’t have gone to that 
trouble,” protested Mr. O’Neil. 

“ ’T was no trouble at all,” replied Lady Castle- 
ton. ‘T had one or two things to be repaired and 
sent the chain with them. But I am deeply inter- 
ested in any news you may have for me of the 
search for my grandniece.” 

Mr. O’Neil shook his head. 

‘T ’m sorry to say. Lady Castleton, that I have 
none. The fact is, it will take some time to find 
out anything. There are many difficulties in the 
way of our getting any information from the 
South or from the Rebel army. Of one thing, 
however, I can assure you. There is neither a 
Dennis Burke nor a Patrick Cochrane among our 
prisoners. So far I ’ve gone ; but there is no tell- 
ing when I can come by word of them, living or 
dead, if they fought with the South. Your lady- 
176 



“I recognized it as the elegant monstrosity yon had given Nora” 






HOW BEBEE MET THE DUKE 


ship will have to be patient and rely upon my do- 
ing all that any one could do” 

Lady Castleton rose with a sigh of mingled 
regret and discontent. 

'T must thank you, Mr. O’Neil, for your trou- 
ble,” she said on leaving, ‘Tut I cannot conceal 
the fact that I am much disappointed, for I had 
been hoping that I might leave this country, with 
its riots and its war, and get back to Ireland 
where there are many things that require my 
attention. I shall, however, try to be patient.” 
And with a few words of good-by, and an invi- 
tation to Nora to bring Bebee to see her. Lady 
Castleton went away. 

It was rather pathetic to see the relief Bebee 
showed when she was told that the ring had been 
recovered. 

‘T was so worried about it,” she said, in a funny 
grown-up way. ‘T was sure I could find that 
dog again, but of course, until I had, I could n’t 
help being anxious. It was a great ’sponsibility.” 

Mr. O’Neil shook his head, puzzled. 

“Takin’ it for granted you ’d known the Duke, 
179 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
how did the ring get on the little tyke ? That ’s 
what I want to hear/' he insisted. 

^^Yes, dear/' said Nora with a smile o£ encour- 
agement, ''tell us the whole story from the time 
you left me. We 're in no hurry this day, seein' 
the streets are still dangerous." 

"You remember," Bebee began readily, "that 
the horrid woman pushed me away when I tried 
to stop her pulling you?" 

"Yes," answered Nora, "I remember perfectly. 
You were that mad I could see it in your face." 

"She had no right to touch you!" declared 
Bebee, quite vehemently for her ; "but I saw that 
there was nothing I could do alone, and I remem- 
bered that I had the ring. If she found it, you 
would never see it again, I was quite sure. You 
had trusted it to me and — and it was a mighty 
big 'sponsibility." 

"Ah, you poor dear, worryin' your little head 
over it," said Nora sympathetically. 

"I wanted to keep it safe for you," Bebee con- 
tinued, "so I thought the best thing for me to do 
was to hide. I ran up to the next corner and 
i8o 


HOW BEBEE MET THE DUKE 


crowded under a balcony in the dark. Just then 
a man come stumbling along and he called out 
to some one else I could n’t see, The soldiers are 
over on the Avenoo !’ and off he went on the run. 
But I thought that if I found the soldiers they 
would help you, so I slipped out and went for 
them. They were only a little way off, but the 
crowd had taken all their guns away from them. 
They wouldn’t come with me though I begged 
them to ever so hard. I told them there was a 
thieving woman trying to rob you, and they 
laughed at me saying that there were thieves on 
every corner in New York, and they could n’t do 
anything because their orders were to keep to- 
gether. So I went back to find you, but you were 
gone, and then I saw some of those bad boys and 
I ran away again as fast as I could.” 

“You poor little child,” commented Mr. O’Neil, 
softly. 

“I did n’t know what to do,” Bebee continued. 
“I waited for a little under that gallery I told 
you about and then I could n’t stand it any longer 
and I started out to find the Fifth Avenue Hotel 

i8i 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

where I thought Johnny said you lived. It was 
so dark and there were n’t any lamps lit. I was 
very lonesome and I wanted Mammy awfully, but 
I asked people the way to the hotel and at last I 
got there.” 

''And you heard no word of your mammy?” 
asked Mr. O’Neil. 

Bebee shook her head. 

"Every one wanted to know what her name 
was,” she explained, "and when I told them it was 
just 'Mammy’ they scolded and said they did n’t 
'have any time to waste on such foolishness,’ and 
went off.” 

"But what is her name?” asked Nora with ex- 
cusable curiosity. 

"Just Mammy,” replied Bebee simply. "I said 
so before. 'My Mammy’ is all the name I know.” 

Mr. O’Neil shook his head, puzzled. 

"Go on with your tale, child,” he said. "I ’m 
thinkin’ of that dog and how it came by the ring.” 

"I found the hotel at last,” Bebee continued 
"after walking and walking. You see I thought 
Nora might have gotten back, and, if not, I could 


HOW BEBEE MET THE DUKE 


give the ring to some of her family, for I did 
want to get rid of it. Then I could go and look 
for Mammy in earnest, but, so long as I had that 
diamond, I had to take care of it. It was a ’spon- 
sibility, you see. Well, at the hotel they told me 
they did n’t know you. There were a lot of cross 
men about and they would n’t let me go inside. 
I was sure you lived there, and when I would n’t 
give up they called some one they said would 
surely know. But he said you did n’t, and so they 
sent me away.” 

‘Wou poor baby!” cried Nora, patting the 
child’s hand affectionately. 

’T was a turrible experience,” murmured Mr. 
O’Neil. 

‘'And what did you do then?” asked Nora. 

‘T thought at first I would go into the little 
park across the street and rest,” Bebee explained. 
“You see I was tired, but there were soldiers there 
and they would n’t let any one in. You remember 
there are some houses ’way over there with little 
gardens in front of them? I thought that was 
the next best place for me, so I crept into one of 

183 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

those and curled down under a bush and went 
fast asleep in a minute. I think I never was so 
tired.’’ 

''And there ye stayed till mornin’, hey?” Mr. 
O’Neil cut in, but the child shook her head. 

"I got awake after a while, feeling some one 
pulling at my clothes, trying to find my pocket, and 
just then there was the sound of some one else 
coming along the street. The man who had hold 
of my dress slid back into the bushes. He knew 
he ’d waked me, for he said, 'If you cry out, I ’ll 
stick a knife in you!’ The steps came along and 
stopped at the fence near us.” 

"Didn’t you call for help?” asked Nora. 

"It was only a woman,” answered Bebee. "I 
did n’t see what she could do. But the man had 
left the gate ajar and a little animal ran in and 
came sniffing around where I lay.” 

"The Duke !” cried Nora, triumphantly. Bebee 
nodded. 

"I knew it at once for the same dog I had no- 
ticed at the hotel,” she said simply. "I ’d never 
seen another like it, and it put an idea into my 
184 


HOW BEBEE MET THE DUKE 

head. I was so afraid that the man would find 
the ring that I slipped off the chain and, twisting 
it tight round the dog’s neck, clasped it there. 
Then I had n’t anything left that was worth steal- 
ing.” 

‘^Are you sure you could have recognized the 
dog again?” asked Mr. O’Neil. 

‘T ’d have known it at once,” replied Bebee 
positively, and Nora confirmed this. 

‘'Of course she ’d known him. Daddy. Do you 
suppose I would n’t know the Duke if I met him in 
China? He ’s so different from other dogs.” 

“Well, you ’re a brave baby,” declared Mr. 
O’Neil admiringly. “What happened to ye 
then?” 

“There was n’t much more,” Bebee continued. 
“After the woman went away, the man made me 
get up and go over to a street lamp, but when he 
looked at me he just laughed and said something 
about wasting time and left me. Then it began 
to rain and I crawled under a balcony where it 
was pretty dry and I was so tired I slept till 
morning. I wandered about all day looking for 

185 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

Mammy, 'cause, not having the ring, I could do 
that, you see. When it began to grow dark I felt 
more lonesome and I walked back to the hotel 
again, hoping to see Nora, ’cause I could n’t get it 
out of my head that she lived there. They told 
me not to bother them, and just then Johnny 
came up. That ’s all.” 

It was a pathetic little story that Bebee had 
told, and Nora had tears in her eyes when it was 
finished. Mr. O’Neil, too, was more than a lit- 
tle impressed, and he kept repeating, ‘'You ’re the 
brave baby,” again and again, looking at her in- 
tently, as if there was something about her he 
could n’t quite make out. 

"You ’ll be safe with us now till these riots are 
over,” said Nora consolingly. 

"But I ’m ’bliged to find my mammy,” replied 
Bthte, "You see she ’s worrying about me all 
this time.” 

"But you can’t go out to-day, my child,” Mr. 
O’Neil objected in his kindly way. "I could n’t 
have you runnin’ the risk of it. You ’ve had 
trouble enough. You ’ll be stayin’ here, keepin’ 

i86 


HOW BEBEE MET THE DUKE 

Nonie company, till things are better, and then 
we dl find your mammy/’ 

Bebee was forced to be content with this ar- 
rangement, nor did she protest unduly, though 
it was plain to be seen that the child was still 
worried and anxious. 

‘Terhaps Johnny Clancy will find her,” Nora 
said encouragingly. ‘'He ’s fine at findin’ 
people — and meanwhile we ’ll have a grand 
time.” 

All that day Nora spent in an endeavor to 
make Bebee feel at home, and very soon the two 
were as friendly as if they had known each other 
for years. There was no resisting Nora when 
she set out to please any one, and the strange 
child responded quickly to the motherly care lav- 
ished upon her. 

Toward evening there came a note from Lady 
Castleton, containing the information that she had 
been sent for to return to Ireland on important 
business and, not seeing any chance of finding 
her grandniece in the immediate future, it being 
steamer-day she was taking a passage that of- 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
fered, and begged Mr. O’Neil to look after her 
interests during her absence. 

‘"Oh, that ’s too bad/’ exclaimed Nora in real 
distress. ‘'She ’s sailed to-day, and now Bebee 
won’t see the Duke again.” 

“But what has she done with my chain ?’^ asked 
Bebee. “It was such a pretty chain and I meant 
to keep it always.” 

“Her ladyship says something about that,” 
said Mr. O’Neil, taking the letter out again. 
“Ah, here it is. T ’ve instructed Tiffany’s to send 
the chain to you when it is repaired. I am sorry 
not to have seen Nora and you to say good-by.’ 
There you are,” continued Mr. O’Neil folding up 
the letter. “ ’T is just as well her ladyship ’s 
gone. She could do no good here and would be 
worryin’ herself, and me, every minute. ’T is not 
as if I need any spur to keep me on the look-out. 
Were it me own Nora I could do no more with the 
country in the state it now is.” 

At bedtime Nora saw to it that Bebee was 
tucked in, and then ran out to her father for their 
little evening conference. 

i88 


HOW BEBEE MEX JHE DUKE 

‘1 'm sorry Lady Castleton did n’t see her,” she 
said, meaning Bebee, of course. ‘‘She ’s so 
pretty, isn’t she, Dadd}^?” 

“She is that,” agreed Mr. O’Neil, heartily. 
“As pretty as a picture, and a fine brave girl. 
Me heart aches, thinkin’ of what she must have 
been through.” 

“Would n’t it be splendid if we could n’t find 
her mammy after all?” said Nora. 

Mr. O’Neil looked his surprise. 

“Now what ’s this notion has come into your 
head ?” he asked. “Sure ye don’t want the child 
lost entirely?” 

“Sure, that ’s exactly what I do want !” Nora 
declared with emphasis. “ ’T would just suit me 
if we never heard of her mammy or any one else 
belongin’ to her. ’T would be fine.” 

“Nora O’Neil!” cried her father shocked. 
“Have ye no feelin’s for the poor parents of the 
child, and don’t ye think the little girl would 
grieve for her father and mother ?” 

“I ’ll not be pretendin’ I have any sorrow for 
the parents,” Nora affirmed vehemently. “What 
189 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

call had they to leave her with an old black woman, 
too fat to run? I ’m thinkin’ parents of that kind 
are n’t fit to have a dear child like Bebee. And as 
to her grievin’, — I ’ll see to that.” 

Mr. O’Neil began to catch the drift of Nora’s 
remarks. 

‘‘Ye ’re thinkin’ to keep her always with ye. Is 
that it ?” : 

“Aye, Daddy, that ’s just it,” answered Nora, 
enthusiastically. “Think how comfortin’ it 
would be to you to know I was n’t alone, and if 
the President won’t let me have a little slave, sure 
’tis none of his business how many sisters I 
have ! When you ’re here, Daddy,” she went on, 
“there ’s naught in the world I ’m wantin’. But 
you go away, ye know ye do, and I ’m left alone 
with nothin’ to love. Think of that. Daddy, and 
you ’ll be understandin’ how I ’m longin’ to keep 
Bebee with me always. ’T was a dog I wanted 
first, but now — ” she stopped, not finding words 
to express her joy at the prospect. 

Mr. O’Neil was worried. 

“Nonie, me darlin’,” he said anxiously. 

190 


HOW BEBEE MET THE DUKE 


^'Don’t be gettin’ these notions in your head. 
There ’s no chance of our keepin’ this child. For 
a day or two, maybe, she ’ll be with us, till things 
get settled in the city; but she’ll be found, me 
dear. Ye may be sure of that, and if your heart 
gets set on it, ’t will be a sore disappointment to 
have to let her go.” 

Nora sat quietly for a long time, then she gave 
a huge sigh and lifting herself in her father’s 
arms, she kissed him good night. 

'T think. Daddy,” she said softly, ‘'me heart is 
set on it. Ever since I saw her first, when I 
thought she was a little colored girl and wanted 
her for a slave so that I could take care of her 
and do for her, and — and — oh, you know, love 
her, I ’ve been thinkin’ of her.” 

“ ’T will only make ye unhappy, Nonie dar- 
lin’,” said her father, an anxious look on his face, 
“and that, ye know, me dear, is something I can’t 
stand.” 

“Daddy, I can’t help hopin’,’’ Nora confessed 
with a little sob. “I ’m so lonesome when you ’re 
away.” She walked toward the door of her room, 
191 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


deep in thought. Then she turned again and 
looked at Mr. O’Neil with a wrinkled forehead. 
‘"Daddy,” she said earnestly, “why couldn’t I 
have been born twins,” and Mr. O’Neil, not being 
able to find an answer, she went off to bed. 


192 


CHAPTER XIV 


A STRANGE MAN WITH A HOOKED NOSE 

M r. O’NEIL sitting alone after Nora had 
gone to bed, saw very clearly the danger 
of his daughter’s becoming too attached to the 
little stranger who was with them, and deter- 
mined to forestall this by doing all in his power 
to find the darky mammy as soon as he could. 

In furtherance of this he talked to the child the 
next day, trying to draw out her name and some- 
thing of her history, but she seemed very reticent 
and only shook her head, insisting that her 
mother was dead and that she had no one to care 
for her but Mammy. As to her name it was 
Bebee, and that was all. A mention of her fa- 
ther brought painful confusion, and when Mr. 
O’Neil would have persisted, she said plaintively, 
‘Tlease don’t talk about him,” and burst into 
tears, thus effectively closing the subject. 

193 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


Several days passed before the city v^as quiet 
enough for them to drive around in the hope of 
finding the old colored woman. But, though 
they discovered the ruins of the house where 
Bebee said she had lived before the riots, nothing 
was learned of Mammy's whereabouts. 

Meanwhile the days were hurrying into weeks 
and the children were growing more and more 
attached. What Mr. O'Neil had dreaded was 
rapidly coming to pass and Bebee was becoming 
part of the O'Neil family. 

'T is a poor livin' I 'd make as detective,” he 
admitted to himself, but in the end he began to 
believe that the old negress must have died, a vic- 
tim of the mob's cruelty. 

Johnny Clancy, however, had by no means 
given up the search. 

‘T 'm good at findin' people,” he insisted, and so 
he kept the matter in mind after the others had 
given up hope. 

The passing days brought nearer the date set 
for 'Mr. O'Neil's departure for Washington. 
Also the weather was very hot and he was anxious 
194 


A STRANGE MAN 

to see the children comfortably installed out of 
town. 

'T is time we were goin’ away/’ he said to 
Nora, one evening when they were alone. ‘T ’m 
thinkin’ Cape May would be a fine place for ye. 
There’s a new railroad opened there, and it’s 
goin’ to have a great season.” 

^T ’d love it. Daddy — I mean, papa,” Nora an- 
swered with enthusiasm. 

‘Then ye ’d better be buyin’ some new frills 
for yourself and this baby of yours.” 

Nora wrinkled her brows. 

‘T don’t know, will she let me,” she remarked 
thoughtfully. “She ’s that proud ’t is scandalous. 
She folds up each thing of mine she wears and 
puts it back, just as careful.” 

“Well, go see how she takes the notion,” Mr. 
O’Neil suggested. “Lead up to it and keep 
dwellin’ on the dresses. Girls likes frills, ye 
mind.” 

Nora went and Mr. O’Neil, swaying back and 
forth in his rocking chair, was surprised when 
Bebee came in alone a little later. 


195 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

‘T Ve made Nonie cry/’ she said with a sigh. 
‘‘But I can’t help it. I must go away.” 

“Nonsense! Nonsense! Where would ye be 
goin’, me dear?” demanded Mr. O’Neil. 

“I don’t know,” the child answered, miserably. 
“I can’t do washing like Mammy, but I might sell 
papers. Johnny Clancy does, — and you must 
have a little money for the landlady.” 

Mr. O’Neil’s soft heart melted. 

“Me dear, we ’ll play I ’m the landlord,” he said 
gently. “Ye don’t need money to pay me. Just 
give me a kiss now and then and ’t will be all the 
pay I ’ll be askin’.” 

Tears came into Bebee’s eyes. 

“You and Nonie are so good to me and — and — 
but I can’t be a beggar !” she blurted out at length. 

Mr. O’Neil sat thoughtful for a moment and 
then he slapped his knee so hard that Bebee 
jumped. 

“I have it!” he cried, and pulled her down on 
his lap. “Ye may have noticed that we keep a 
governess in this family?” Bebee nodded. 

“Well, governesses is wonderful expensive,” he 
196 


A STRANGE MAN 


explained, drawing a long face, ''ye ’ve no notion 
how much that French mam’selle costs me. 
She ’s keepin’ her family in luxTy at this moment, 
and I tell ye in confidence, me dear, that she ’s not 
the least use for anything but what they call dead 
languages like French and German.’’ 

Bebee did n’t quite understand, but she was lis- 
tening intently. 

"Now I don’t care for French,” Mr. O’Neil 
continued, "not for meself, I mean. I ’m all for 
the English when it comes to talkin’, and ye per- 
haps have observed, that once in a long while 
Nonie and me makes mistakes.” 

"Yes,” answered Bebee, "I have. Like 'Nonie 
and me’ and 'makes.’ ” 

"Well, I see nothin’ wrong there,” said Mr. 
O’Neil, quite puzzled, "but never mind that now. 
I did n’t have a governess runnin’ about teachin’ 
me when I was a bit of a gossoon. So ’t is that 
sort of learnin’ we ’ll be wantin’ from some one 
who knows. There ’s another thing I ’d call to 
your attention and that ’s the matter of substi- 
tutes. Nora ’s wantin’ one.” 


197 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


^'Substitutes?’’ Bebee repeated vaguely. 

"Aye,’^ went on Mr. O’Neil. 'Tf a fella goes to 
the war for ye, ye pay him three hundred dollars 
or more. Substitutes comes high, ye under- 
stand.” 

'T think I see,” replied Bebee, uncertainly. 

"Well, ’t is a substitute for me, when I ’m away 
that Nonie wants,” he explained. "Some one 
that will scold her — like I do — and boss her about 
— and give her her own way in everything — like 
me, ye mind.” 

Bebee looked at his serious face for a mo- 
ment. 

"I don’t think you know how to scold,” she said. 
"You always do everything we want you to.” 

"We ’re gettin’ away from the subject of sub- 
stitutes,” Mr. O’Neil reminded her with a smile. 
"I need one to stay with Nora when I ’m gone, 
but ye can’t get a first-class one for less than 
three hundred dollars, as I told you, and that ’s a 
power o’ money !” 

"It sounds as if it was,” remarked Bebee, anx- 
iously. 


198 


A STRANGE MAN 


''Does n't it now ?" agreed Mr. O'Neil. "Sure 
you 're the clever girl to tell expensive things be 
the sound of 'em; but now here 's me point. If 
I could get a substitute and an English governess 
rolled into one I 'd be makin' money, and that 's 
a great comfort to a man of my savin' disposition. 
So the long and the short of it is, will ye take the 
job? I'll give ye your board and your clothes 
and a bit of spendin' money now and then; but I 
warn ye it would cost more, if I was gettin' what 
ye might call a real professional." 

"Oh, Mr. O'Neil!" cried Bebee hugging him, 
"let me go and tell Nonie," and she scrambled off 
his knee and ran out of the room joyfully. 

"I 'm a queer man," thought Mr. O'Neil. 
"Here, when I have the chance to let her go, I 'm 
doin’ all in me power to keep the child. Faith, 
she 's a winnin' little thing and no mistake, but I 
misdoubt there’s heartaches in store for me 
Nonie." 

He had little time to dwell on these gloomy 
speculations, for the next minute the girls rushed 
into the room and threw themselves upon him. 

199 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

''Oh, but you Te the grand man cried Bebee 
excitedly. 

"Faith,’’ exclaimed Mr. O’Neil laughing heart- 
ily, "ye ’ll be losin’ your job if ye catch the 
brogue !” Which Bebee took quite seriously, for 
she said, earnestly, "I ’ll be very careful.” 

In the midst of their chattering and planning, 
there came a sudden sharp knock on the door and, 
without waiting for permission to enter, Johnny 
Clancy burst into the room. 

"I ’ve found her ! I ’ve found her !” he cried. 

"Who have ye found?” demanded Mr. O’Neil. 

"Her mammy,” Johnny replied pointing at 
Bebee. 

For what seemed a long time all three looked at 
Johnny in amazement. 

"Sure I don’t think ye care whether I found her 
or not,” he blurted out, much disappointed. 

"Oh, yes, we do!” exclaimed Bebee. "Tell me 
where she is. I must go to her.” 

"Well, she ain’t an3rwhere that I knows of,” he 
answered enigmatically. "She ’s gone off.” 

"Now what do ye mean by that?” demanded 


200 


A STRANGE MAN 


Mr. O’Neil, more brusquely than was usual with 
him. ‘'Out with your story and don’t have too 
many words about it.” 

“ T was right near the hotel, I saw her,” 
Johnny began. ‘T knowed her for the same one 
I ’d seen with Miss Bebee there, the minute I 
clapped eyes on her. So I runs and stops her 
just as she ’s walkin’ a Way. ‘Ye come with me,’ 
I says as bold as ye please, and she looks at me 
and smiles. Then she sets down a clothes-basket 
she was carryin’ and says, ‘What you-all wants 
with me ?’ in a funny kind o’ way of speakin’. 

“ ‘I wants you to go to your Bebee,’ I says. 
‘We ’ve been a-lookin’ for you, till we did n’t think 
you was ever cornin’ to life again.’ When I says 
‘Bebee,’ she began to take more interest, you bet. 
Then she starts askin’ questions. Golly, she can 
talk! Wanted to know all about you, sir. 
Whether you was rich and all that. Whether you 
was treatin’ Bebee right — and of course I told 
her you was.” 

“Is she downstairs?” asked Mr. O’Neil, cutting 
into Johnny’s description of the interview. 


201 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

"'No, she is n't,” Johnny replied. "That ’s the 
funny part of it.’^ 

"'Where is she?’^ asked Bebee. 

"She ’s gone, and that 's all I know,” answered 
Johnny. "After she ’d asked me about a thou- 
sand questions she picks up her basket, makin’ 
ready to go on. I told her to stop, but she did n’t 
pay no ’tention to me. Only just laughs when I 
tells her she must come. "You can’t cahhy me, I 
guess, honey,’ she says, laughin’ like. "You jes’ 
tell Miss Bebee, her ole mammy ’s all right and 
for her not to fret she’self. She ’s got washin’ in 
plenty and is livin’ fine.’ That ’s what she tells 
me, and then she waddles away, and nothin’ I 
could do would stop her though I walked along 
beside her for blocks.” 

"'Did ye find out where she lived?” asked Mr. 
O’Neil. 

"She would n’t tell me,” answered Johnny. 

"Well, and why did n’t ye folly her ?” demanded 
Mr. O’Neil. 

"Sure I started to,” the boy replied a little 
shamefacedly, "but she would n’t have it.” 


202 


A STRANGE MAN 


‘'How could she help it if ye walked behind 
her?’’ insisted Mr. O’Neil. 

"She scared me,” Johnny admitted. "I did 
walk after her but I had n’t gone far when she 
turns on me sudden and says if I don’t go ’way 
she ’ll hoodoo me. It was n’t so much what she 
says as how she looked that did for me. The way 
she rolled back her eyes till there was n’t nothin’ 
but the whites showin’ was awful, and she talks 
about spirits till it sounded like maybe she had ’em 
in her basket.” 

A sob from Bebee interrupted Johnny’s 
tale. 

"I never thought Mammy would desert me,” 
she murmured brokenly, while big tears slipped 
slowly down her cheeks. 

Nora put her arms about the child to comfort 
her. 

"But she would have taken ye away from me, 
darlin’,” Nora repeated again and again till at 
length Bebee stifled her sobbing and looked at 
Nora in surprise. 

"Oh, no, she would n’t, Nonie. She could n’t 
203 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


have taken me away. She’s just my mammy, 
you know.” 

‘'Your nurse, is that it?” asked Mr. O’Neil. 

“Yes — my mammy,” answered Bebee. 

“And where was it she brought ye from when 
ye came here?” Mr. O’Neil questioned, but Nora, 
ever on her guard against some unwelcome piece 
of information, cut in before Bebee had time to 
answer. 

“Don’t be botherin’ her. Daddy,” she said, de- 
cisively. “ ’T is somethin’ of a shock for her to 
hear of her old mammy so sudden-like.” 

“So sudden/y, Nonie,” Bebee corrected sol- 
emnly, with a glance at Mr. O’Neil. 

“That ’s the way to earn your wages, me dear,” 
said Mr. O’Neil giving Bebee a pat on the shoul- 
der. “We ’ll be learnin’ the real English now, 
I ’m thinkin’.” 

''Thinking” said Bebee, and at the laugh that 
followed Nora led her out of the room. 

“Humph!” grunted Mr. O’Neil after Johnny 
had gone and he was alone. “ ’T is a strange 
world altogether. Here I have two mysteries on 
204 


A STRANGE MAN 

me hands. Now if this was a story book they ’d 
contrive the impossible and make Bebee Miss 
Eileen's daughter. 'T is a queer world and no 
mistake." 

The buying of the summer outfit preparatory to 
their trip to Cape May was something of an 
event and when they were ready to start Nora 
spoke to her father. 

‘T want slathers of money, Daddy," she an- 
nounced calmly. 

‘^Nora, you must say ‘papa,' and not ‘slathers,' " 
Bebee commented severely. “I think ‘a mighty 
big lot' would be better than ‘slathers.' " 

“ 'T is all one to me pocket-book," laughed Mr. 
O'Neil, as he took out a huge roll of bills and 
handed them to Nora. 

“You'll not need all that for just one little 
girl," cried Beb&, aghast. 

“Oh, won't I?" replied Nora. “You shall 
have none but the best." 

“The best is always cheapest in the end," de- 
clared Mr. O'Neil, and off they went. 

205 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


'T wish there was time to take you to Madame 
Demorest's/’ said Nora, as they drove to Stew- 
art's, ‘Tut never mind. We 'll go to her for 
your winter things." Which showed how far 
ahead she was planning. 

Ribbons, laces, prunella gaiters and slippers, 
underwear, materials for dresses, silks, muslins, 
and linens, were all carefully selected and, long 
before their shopping was half finished, the little 
recipient was thoroughly tired of being turned 
around, measured, fitted and admired. 

“Don't you buy me too much, Nonie," she whis- 
pered. “You 've no idea how fast I grow. I 'll 
be sticking 'way out through these things in a 
little while." 

“Well, if ye shoot up that much," replied Nora, 
“the next lot we get for you will about fit me 
when you 've done w’ith them. Then perhaps 
you 'll see me losin' my temper about it," and she 
laughed gaily. “I 've heard the girls at school 
scold hard enough to scare a body when they had 
to wear their big sisters' cast-offs." 

206 


A STRANGE MAN 

At the end of another hour of hard work 
Bebee again protested. 

‘‘Surely you have enough now,” she said, 
wriggling as the cold scissors touched her neck. 
“At any rate, as soon as I ’m dressed I ’m going 
out to sit in the carriage so you won’t buy any- 
thing else.” 

“Mam’selle must decide upon the pattern of the 
Swiss before she leaves,” one of the saleswomen 
murmured, while Nora, intent upon the selection 
of some handkerchiefs, nodded absently to 
Bebee that she might do as she pleased. 

So Bebee wandered toward the entrance, pick- 
ing her way slowly through the crowds of peo- 
ple and lingering here and there. She was whole- 
somely interested in the things about her so long 
as they did n’t have to be tried on. 

At last she reached the door in front of which 
she knew that William would be waiting, but as 
she walked out she collided with some one who 
was hurrying in. Both stepped back a pace, the 
man mumbling an apology, and then they saw 
207 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


each other. Bebee, at the first glance, gave a lit- 
tle cry of surprise and fright. Then, slipping 
past him, she ran rapidly to the carriage and 
climbed in hurriedly, looking quite pale and 
upset as she settled herself back on the cush- 
ions. 

The man watched her for a moment before 
following her from the vestibule where the en- 
counter had taken place, as if he intended to 
speak to her. But just then Nora and Mam’selle 
appeared, and he drew back. There was a short 
delay while two boys from the store piled in their 
many bundles, but at last the carriage drove ofif. 
Bebee, glancing back, saw the man’s face re- 
lieved against a piece of bright orange-colored 
brocade hanging in the window, and turned away 
with a shudder. 

The stranger followed the carriage with his 
eyes. His big, hooked nose gave his face a 
hawk-like appearance that once seen would not 
soon be forgotten. Even standing there on the 
sidewalk in the bright sunlight, he looked like 
some ill-omened bird of prey. 

208 


A STRANGE MAN 


As the errand boys returned from the curb he 
approached them. 

‘‘Who were those little girls?'’ he inquired, 
nodding in the direction of the departing car- 
riage. “One of them 's a perfect beauty," he 
added, taking a fifty-cent note out of his pocket 
significantly. 

“They are the children of Timothy O'Neil," 
answered the older boy. “He's made millions 
out of government contracts, they say." 

“Where do they live ?" asked the man. 

“At the Astor House," was the reply. 

“And are they both his children?" his ques- 
tioner persisted. “They don't look like sisters." 

“I 've never seen the little one before," the boy 
admitted. “I 've seen the other though, a lot of 
times ; and I 'm sure I heard the sales-lady say, 
‘your little sister 's a picture in it, miss,' when 
she gave me the parcels." 

“Humm !" muttered the stranger. “Have you 
ever seen a fat old darky woman with them?" 

“Never have," answered the boy, “but I 'll lose 
my job if I stay here talking to you much longer," 
209 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

and he looked suggestively at the bank bill the 
man held in his hand. 

But that worthy put it back in his pocket with a 
laugh. 

''You are getting all your information is 
worth/' he sneered and walked away. 


210 


CHAPTER XV 

BEBEE DECIDES TO GO TO SCHOOL 

F or many days after the shopping expedi- 
tion, Bebee seemed much upset. When- 
ever she was out she kept a watch on the people 
they passed, and in the hotel she clung to Mr. 
O'Neil, feeling, no doubt, that she needed his 
protection. 

Both Nora and her father noticed it, but 
neither said anything; the former because she 
dreaded an inquiry into the child's past with the 
consequent possibility of their being separated, 
and the latter for a similar reason. Mr. O'Neil 
had grown very fond of this addition to his 
family, particularly since she had taken to call- 
ing him ‘'Uncle Tim," and nestling up to him as 
if she expected his care. 

‘T wonder," he said to Nora, one day, “what- 
ever put it into her head to call me ‘Uncle Tim'?" 


2II 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


'T thought it would be better/' answered Nora, 
shamelessly. 'T is embarrassing to the child 
not to have any family, and people at the sea- 
shore might be askin' questions." 

Again, when they were almost ready to leave 
the city, there was a query as to what name 
should be put on Bebee’s trunk. 

O'Neil," Nora answered promptly, and 
there the matter rested. 

Once settled at the Congress Hall at Cape May, 
Mr. O'Neil enjoyed the holiday as much as the 
girls. Bthee was quick to make friends, and 
Nora was drawn with her into a more natural 
relation with other children at the resort. Her 
father recognized this at once and blessed the 
day that Bebee had come to them. 

^'Sure 't is little sense a man has," he thought 
to himself. ‘'Here was I, try in’ to make Nonie 
happy by givin' her elegant trifles like a yard of 
the Atlantic Cable ^ set in silver, or camel's-hair 

1 Between seven and eight miles of the Atlantic Cable was cut 
up by Tiffany and mounted in silver to be sold for souvenirs 
during the ‘Telegraphic Jubilee,” a celebration in honor of the 
completion of the transatlantic line in 1858. — E. B. K. 

212 


BEBEE DECIDES TO GO TO SCHOOL 


shawls fit for her mother, while all the time what 
she needed was a little fun and some one to play 
with. T is only a child she is herself, for all her 
sensible ways.’’ 

The girls enjoyed the seashore very much 
while Mr. O’Neil was with them, but he had 
warned them that he expected to be summoned to 
Washington, and one morning they found a long 
blue envelope lying on the breakfast table. 

Nora and her father recognized this signal for 
his hasty departure at sight, but Bebee required 
an explanation when she saw Nora suddenly 
throw her arms about Mr. O’Neil’s neck. 

'Tf I had known what it w'as,” she said, resent- 
fully, ‘T ’d have come down early and torn it up. 
Then you would n’t have had to go away from us. 
Uncle Tim.” 

'T wish ye had, me dear,” said Mr. O’Neil 
banteringly, ''because as it is, I ’m off on the first 
train. But I ’m easier in me mind than I used to 
be before you came to take care of Nonie.” 

"We’ll take care of each other,” said Nora 
with a huge sigh. 


213 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


^‘Are you going to the war, Uncle Tim?^^ asked 
Beb& a littte later. 

‘^No, not to the war, exactly,’’ Mr. O’Neil re- 
plied, ''though if it was n’t for the war I ’d not be 
goin’.” 

"Then you’re not a soldier?” questioned the 
child, anxiously. 

"No, I ’m not a soldier, but I ’m workin’ for the 
Union just the same, and that ’s some comfort,” 
Mr. O’Neil replied. 

For a moment or two Bebee seemed to ponder 
this, and at last demanded rather suddenly, 

"Where were you born. Uncle Tim?” 

Mr. O’Neil laid down his knife and fork and 
regarded her curiously. 

"Now what ’s goin’ on in that head of hers?” 
he said to himself, and then, aloud, "Why, in 
Ireland, of course.” 

"Most every one was born there, I believe,” 
Bebee said, and added, hesitatingly, "Why 
should you bother with the war when you ’re not 
an American?” 

"Not an American! Me?” stuttered Mr. 


214 


BEBEE DECIDES TO GO TO SCHOOL 

O’Neil. ‘With an American flag tattooed on 
each of me arms ? Sure, me dear, I ’m an 
American all right, and a New Yorker, too.” 

To their great surprise Bebee seemed to get 
much satisfaction from this speech and nodded 
her little head wisely. 

“Now I understand,” she said. “That ’s why 
you are for the Union. You went with your 
State.” 

“How else would I go?” demanded Mr. O’Neil. 

“The thing I think ’s mean,” Nora cut in, “is 
that ye send everything to our army and leave the 
Johnny Rebs to suffer.” 

“God save us, would ye have me send help to 
the enemy?” exclaimed her father. “What 
are ye thinkin’ of, child?” 

“Oh, I don’t mean powder and shot,” answered 
Nora, quite unabashed, “but I do think it would 
be only fair to send them clothes and food. I ’ve 
heard some awful tales of the poor creatures with 
coats cut from floor carpets, or no coats at all. 
And wooden-soled shoes, and coffee made of 
sweet-potatoes ; sure I can’t but pity the helpless 

215 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
things with no one to sew a button on or cook a 
decent meal/' 

‘‘ 'T is a comfortable, homey sort of war ye 'd 
be runnin', Nonie!" said her father. ‘‘But it 
would be my duty to interfere with ye. Ye 
know it 's my business to see that our men gets 
supplies and the rebels don't." 

‘‘Oh, you 'd let me have my way if you could," 
replied Nora, confidently, squeezing her father's 
arm. 

‘‘Do ye take me for a bloody traitor, me girl ?" 
Mr. O'Neil burst out in pretended anger. 

The effect of this last remark upon Bebee was 
so sudden and startling that Mr. O'Neil rose from 
his chair, and Nora with a cry of alarm sprang 
to her side, for the child had shrunk away and 
lifted her arm before her face as if she were 
warding off a blow. 

“Ah, me dear, me dear," crooned Mr. O'Neil, 
“I 'll never forgive meself for frightening ye like 
that. I was but funnin', Bebee dear," and then, 
thinking that he had struck the reason for her 
fright, he said soothingly, “Sure 't is no disgrace 
216 


BEBEE DECIDES TO GO TO SCHOOL 

to be a Southerner. 'T is but unreasonable they 
are. Don’t ye be mindin’ your Uncle Tim’s poor 
jokes, and, hereafter, we ’ll do away with talk 
of the war and the like. ’T is no subject for 
polite conversation foreninst young ladies.” 

For the two little girls left in mam’selle’s 
charge a great deal of joy seemed to have de- 
parted with Mr. O’Neil, but they were happy in 
having each other. Moreover they were busy, 
for no one was idle in those days. A great war 
was in progress and every one did what they 
could to help the soldiers at the front. 

Nora and. Bebee joined a society which had 
been formed by the ladies of Congress Hall and 
the Columbia House called ‘The Busy Bees,” and 
there they and many other children met to scrape 
lint and make bandages for the wounded soldiers. 

They bathed in the surf every morning and 
walked along the beach looking for shells ; while 
in the evenings they danced or listened to the 
band concerts, and so the time passed quickly. 

But the part of the day that Bebee seemed to 
217 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


like the best was the hour in the afternoon just 
before supper when the two girls were alone to- 
gether, for then Nora would often read to her. 
It was through this that the discovery had been 
made that the child could neither read nor write 
herself. 

''You T have to go to one of those new-fangled 
kindergartens they Ve just started, when we get 
back to New York,” sighed Nora. 'T was hop- 
ing you could go to school with me.” 

'T won’t go to any school,” said Bebee posi- 
tively. 

"Ah, why not?” coaxed Nora. 

Bebee did n’t answer for a moment, and then 
very earnestly she asked, "If you knew a little 
girl whose papa was in the army, would you play 
with her?” 

"Of course I would,” answered Nora. "What 
a funny question.” 

"Some girls won’t, Nonie,” Bebee insisted, 
"and I ’m not going to school.” 

This matter worried Nora a good deal and she 
referred to it again and again, but Bebee always 
218 


BEBEE DECIDES TO GO TO SCHOOL 

met her with that positive shake of her head. If 
Nora became too persistent she would stop 
her protests with kisses and beg her to read 
aloud. 

Patriotic stories were much in vogue at that 
time and of these the most popular was ^The Man 
Without a Country.’’ Nora bought it, antici- 
pating much pleasure in reading it aloud, but she 
was destined never to finish it. 

She was about half-way through it when 
Bebee whose uneasiness had been growing 
stopped her. 

‘'Don’t read any more, Nonie,” she begged, 
‘Tt ’s such a wicked book.” 

Nora looked at her in surprise. 

‘T think it is very interesting,” she said, but 
Bebee hardly let her get the words out. 

“It ’s cruel to write about such things,” she 
cried excitedly. “Perhaps that poor Mr. Nolan 
had a little girl. How would she feel to have 
people reading about her papa? Please give it to 
me so I can put it where Uncle Tim won’t ever see 
it.” 


219 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

There were tears in her eyes and Nora, who 
had wanted to finish the story, gave in at once, 
thrusting the book into the child’s hands. 

'^You can hide it from your Uncle Tim. Sure 
you ’re too tender-hearted, Bebee dear. ’T is 
nothing for you to worry over,” she went on with 
an arm about the child. ‘Tt is n’t true just be- 
cause it ’s in a book. '’T is the stories that people 
make up in their heads they ’re proud enough of 
to print ; and it says never a word of a little girl, 
so cease frettin’ over it.” 

She took up another book, and this tale was 
more fortunate, although it too had a decided 
effect upon Bebee. 

It was a simple love story and told how a 
girl and boy had quarreled, though they really 
cared very much for each other. But the boy 
went off to the war and the girl was nearly heart- 
broken at the news and tried hard to find out 
where he was so that she might tell him how 
sorry she felt. But she could not hear a word 
of him. Like other girls she scraped lint and 
made shirts and stockings for the soldiers — 


220 


BEBEE DECIDES TO GO TO SCHOOL 

like the Busy Bees/’ Bebee interrupted, 
and Nora, nodding, continued her reading. 

The girl was always thinking of her lover, fear- 
ing that he might be killed without learning how 
sad she was over their quarrel. So one day it 
occurred to her that he might happen to get one 
of the very shirts she was working on, without 
knowing who had made it. This put an idea into 
her head and when the shirt was finished she 
sewed a little pocket on it and put a note inside 
begging him to come back to her when the war 
was over. She signed her first name only so that 
no one else could tell whom it was from and sent 
it off, with dozens of other shirts, to the front. 
Then she waited for days and days, saying a lit- 
tle prayer once in a while that the message might 
reach her lover. And sure enough, it did ! The 
note was found and, seeing the address, some one 
took the trouble to see that he actually got that 
shirt and found the note inside the pocket. As 
soon as he could, he came back on furlough and 
then everything was all right. 

At the end, Nora, who liked love stories that 


221 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
turned out happily, was delighted, but Bebee 
seemed thoughtful. 

''Do you suppose such a thing could happen?’^ 
she asked. 

"It might,’’ answered Nora, and nothing more 
was said of the matter for the time. 

Next morning while they were working with 
the "Busy Bees,” filling housewifes with needles, 
and buttons and spools of thread, to be sent to the 
front, Bebee suddenly turned to Nora. 

"Who are these for, Nonie?” she asked in an 
undertone, so that no one else should hear her. 

"For the soldiers,” Nora replied, surprised. 

"Yes, I thought so,” Bebee remarked hesita- 
tingly, "but are they for the Boys in Gray or the 
Yankee traitors to their State?” She said the 
words as if she were repeating something she had 
learned by heart. 

"Now whoever told you such a thing as that?” 
demanded Nora, much scandalized. " ’T is for 
the Union soldiers they are, of course. The 
Yankees are not traitors. They are fine, brave 
men fighting for their country’s liberty.” 

222 


BEBEE DECIDES TO GO TO SCHOOL 

‘'Are you certain of that?'" questioned Bebee 
anxiously, looking much puzzled. “Indeed, 
Nonie, I think you must be mistaken."" 

“To be sure I "m certain,’" declared Nora, with 
great positiveness, “there "s no chance of mistake 
at all."" And there the talk ended. 

Bebee seemed much preoccupied for the next 
day or two, and then early one morning Nora 
opened her eyes to find the child staring at the 
ceiling as if she had been awake for a long time. 

“What are you thinking about?"" she asked 
sleepily. 

“I want to learn to read and write,"" answered 
Bebee earnestly. “I want to go to school as soon 
as I can."" 

Nora gave a little cry of delight and threw her 
arms about the child. 

“Oh, I "m so glad,” she exclaimed. “I was just 
hatin" to think of your growin" up ignorant, an" Be- 
bee, Mam’selle and I can teach you till we go home 
— but what made you change your mind, dear?’" 

“There "s something I must do,"" the little girl 
answered quietly. “Some day, Nonie dear, I "11 
223 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

tell you all about it, but just now, please, I ’d 
rather not,’' and she hugged Nora to show that it 
was not lack of love that forced her to withhold 
her confidence. 

And so it happened that one of the very first 
things they did upon their return to New York 
was to settle Bebee in a private school for 
younger children, where she found to her great 
delight that, as Nora had predicted, the girls were 
not in the least ^'horrid” ; but she attributed this to 
the fact that none of them knew her, and she took 
good care not to inform any one that she had any 
other name than O’Neil. 

Mr. O’Neil was still in Washington, and Bebee 
printed her first letter to Uncle Tim. The pride 
she took in that accomplishment astonished Nora 
when she thought how indifferent the child had 
been only a few months before. It was apparent 
that she was very much in earnest in her desire 
to learn, and Nora puzzled her head more than 
once over the cause. 

‘Who could she be wantin’ to write letters to ?” 
Nora asked herself, but had no answer ready. 

224 


CHAPTER XVI 


A LETTER WITH A COAT OF ARMS 

O NE morning as the girls came into the din- 
ing-room, Bebee ran ahead to their table, 
intent upon the letters, in which she had devel- 
oped a great interest since she had begun to write 
herself. 

‘'Here’s one for Uncle Tim!” she exclaimed, 
balancing it on her hand. 

“It will catch the Southern mail if we send it 
at once,” said the practical Nora. 

“And what ’s this ?” asked Bebee, pointing to a 
coat of arms that was engraved on the back. 

Nora took the letter and glanced at it. 

“Oh, ’t is from Lady Castleton,” she explained. 
“It has an English stamp.” 

“But it is this, I want to know about,” Bebee 
insisted, indicating the design on the other side. 
225 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

‘T don't know what it is," answered Nora 
indifferently. 'Terhaps 't is an advertise- 
ment." 

Bebee shook her head emphatically. 

‘‘No, it is n't," she protested, ‘‘ 'cause I had a 
picture just like it once. It had the same three 
little lions sticking out their tongues — " 

^'We 'll send it to Daddy and ask him," Nora 
cut in. ‘Tt 's rather pretty when you come to 
look at it." 

A few days later an answer came from Mr. 
O'Neil with an explanation. 

'Tt 's called a coat of arms," he wrote, ''and 
only the quality in the old country have them on 
their letters. This must belong to some of Lady 
Castleton's family. She writes that Bebee's 
chain, the one that was around the dog's neck 
with the ring, has been sent to her by mistake 
from Tiffany's with her own things, and she 'll 
bring it back when she comes herself, not liking to 
trust it with these new-fangled express com- 
panies." 

"I 'm glad the chain is safe !" exclaimed Bebee. 

226 


A LETTER WITH A COAT OF ARMS 

*T ’m very fond of it for it brings back such pleas- 
ant memories/’ 

‘T ’m glad, too,” replied Nora, ‘^and, you see, 
dear, you must have been mistaken about the coat 
of arms. You could n’t have had a thing that be- 
longed to Lady Castleton. You ’ve never even 
seen her.” 

‘‘But I could n’t be mistaken, Nonie dear. It 
was inside the clasp of my chain, you know.” 

“But it belongs to Lady Castleton,” repeated 
Nora. “What have you to do with her?” Even 
as she asked the question a possible answer came 
into her head and she drew her breath with a 
sharp catch. “Never mind,” she added hastily, 
“we must hurry or we ’ll be late for school,” and 
the subject was not referred to again till long 
afterward. 

Mr. O’Neil returned to New York early in De- 
cember, very full of the Union successes at Mis- 
sionary Ridge and Lookout Mountain, but very 
careful not to mention the war before Bebee. 
He was at once drawn into preparations for 
Christmas, which were elaborate and exciting. 

227 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


Hardly a day passed that one or the other of the 
girls did not think of some surprise for Uncle 
Tim, and when they had a minute to spare, each 
was off by herself, working madly on a gift 
for the other. 

“I have thought of a lovely present for Daddy,’’ 
Nora whispered in Bebee’s ear rather breath- 
lessly. 

'"Nonie,” said Bebee, severely, ‘^how many 
times have I told you to say 'papa’? If Uncle 
Tim was an old darky then you might call him 
'Daddy,’ but it is n’t polite English.” 

"To be sure, dearie,” answered Nora, who al- 
ways accepted such corrections calmly and was 
quite proud of Bebee’s superiority. "I do be for- 
gettin’ now and then, I mean, I forget, but it ’s all 
one. What I want to tell you is that I ’ve thought 
of a lovely present for Da — papa.” 

"What is it ?” asked Bthee, interestedly. 

"It ’s one of these new photograph albums. 
They are very fashionable and I saw a beautiful 
one the other day in a store window. ’T was 
purple morocco with a silver clasp.” 

228 


A LETTER WITH A COAT OF ARMS 

^'Do you think he would like it?” asked Bebee 
a little doubtfully. 

'T ’m sure he would,” Nora asserted, ''that is, if 
we had a picture taken to put in it.” 

Bebee clapped her hands in delight. 

"He 'd love it !” she cried excitedly. "Let ’s 
have it taken to-day !” 

"We dl go this afternoon to make an appoint- 
ment,” Nora said. 

After dinner they set out for Gurney’s Daguer- 
rean Saloon where photographs on paper were 
taken, this being a new process then fast super- 
seding the more expensive daguerreotypes. 

They had to wait, for it was a fine, clear day 
and a great many sitters were ahead of them ; but 
they spent their time very pleasantly, looking over 
the wonderful array of portraits that lined the 
walls. 

At last their turn came, and they explained to 
the operator that they had stopped to make an 
appointment. 

He however urged them to have the picture 
done at once because the light that day was so 
229 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
fine that he was sure of a successful result. 
There was some demur on Mam’selle’s part, who 
said they were in their everyday clothes while she 
had planned to have them more elaborately 
dressed. But it was explained that the blue moire 
which Nora had wished Bebee to wear would not 
take successfully, so she was prevailed upon to let 
them sit at once. 

They went into a little dressing-room and 
smoothed their hair and then the operation was 
begun. 

They were posed before a painted background, 
Nora on a rustic seat and Bebee standing beside 
her with a basket of artificial flowers in her hand. 
Then hard metal clasps were adjusted to hold 
their heads steady while the photograph was be- 
ing made. 

‘'Now look pleasant while I count thirty/’ said 
the man, and Bebee answered mournfully. 

“How can I look pleasant with my head in 
hand-cufifs,” which remark had the effect of mak- 
ing Nora look too pleasant, for she snickered out 
loud. 


230 


A LETTER WITH A COAT OF ARMS 

There was a good deal of laughter over the 
taking of this picture but it was done at last, the 
operator evidently being quite used to people act- 
ing foolishly while he was making pictures of 
them. 

‘'Now I dl take you separately,’’ he suggested, 
when the group was finished to his satisfaction. 

“What for?” inquired Nora, who couldn’t 
think of herself without Bebee and saw no reason » 
for separate pictures. 

“Well, you know,” the operator explained, 
“ ’most every one needs a few little pictures to 
send off to their friends in the army. And we 
keep a number of men at the front. Before a 
battle there is always a rush to have pictures 
taken to send home.” 

“We have n’t any one in the army to send them 
to,” declared Nora, and the matter would have 
ended there, had not Bebee, grown very thought- 
ful since individual portraits had been proposed, 
added her plea. 

“Yes, let ’s, Nonie,” she begged earnestly. “I 
— I think I ’d like to have mine taken.” 


231 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

Nora looked at her in surprise, just a little 
hurt. 

don’t see why,” she protested ; ‘‘we ’re always 
together, aren’t we?” 

‘"But the girls at school might like them,” 
Bebee suggested, ‘^and, oh, yes,” she brightened 
as this thought came to her, ‘'Uncle Tim would 
love to have one of you to carry in his waist- 
coat-pocket.” 

“To be sure he would,” agreed Nora, always 
ready to do anything that might please her father, 
“we ’ll each have one taken and he ’ll find a pic- 
ture of one of his girls no matter which pocket he 
puts a hand into.” 

But Nora was not deceived. She understood 
that Bebee wanted a portrait of herself alone, 
though why she could n’t guess. 

Happily, the photographs were very successful, 
which was not always the case in those days, but 
they looked “so lonesome” in the album, as Bebee 
put it, that the two girls bought portraits of all 
the notable people of the time to fill it up. Still 
there were many empty places, so rather in de- 
232 


A LETTER WITH A COAT OF ARMS 

spair, they went to Mr. Barnum’s Museum/ near 
the Astor House, and procured pictures of all the 
freaks. 

Hanging the stockings on Christmas Eve was a 
matter of much joy and mystery, but Nora was 
by no means satisfied with the accommoda- 
tions. 

‘Tn my own little house that Daddy says I ’m 
to have when the war is over,’’ she explained to 
Bebee, ^'there ’ll be a great wide fireplace with 
hooks on each side to hang things.” 

‘'Yes, indeed,” said Bebee, as some memory 
stirred within her. “Yes, and the boys must bring 
in the Yule Log and put it on the fiah and stan’ 
around looking mighty uneasy all the time, while 

1 A man who once asked Mr. Barnum for work was given five 
bricks and told to place four of them at various conspicuous places 
on Broadway. Then he was to return and enter the Museum with 
the last one. Thereafter he was kept on a constant round, ex- 
changing brick for brick, always bringing one back to the Museum. 
He soon was followed by hordes of people who bought tickets to 
find out what happened to that odd brick. Finally the police asked 
Mr. Barnum “to call off his brick-man,” because the streets had 
become blocked with people. 

The country people were so intent upon seeing Barnum’s 
Museum that they went there carrying their carpet bags before 
they sought out their hotels. — E. B. K. 

233 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

ole Uncle Mose getstheih eggnog, and saying, 
'Christmas gif’, little Missy,’ Uhris’mas gif’, 
Marse De — .’ ” She broke off suddenly, looking 
at Nora a little fearfully, but that wise young 
lady took no notice though her heart beat anx- 
iously, as she realized that her darling had for- 
gotten herself for a moment and had gone back 
into her past. 

‘We ’ll fasten up some holly here,” she an- 
nounced briskly, and proceeded to put that sug- 
gestion into immediate effect, successfully divert- 
ing Bebee from her reminiscent mood. 

They hung their own stockings and arranged 
their gifts for each other with great secrecy, but 
in their bedroom they had another stocking, much 
too big to belong to either of them, over which 
they giggled continuously as they filled it. 

“He ’ll be thinkin’ Santy did it all when he sees 
that jumpin’- jack,” chuckled Nora, “for ’t is only 
toys that old saint has in his pack. He takes 
small account of grown-ups.” 

“ ’T was that made me afraid he ’d forget 
Uncle Tim,” said Bebee, with a jolly wriggle of 

234 


A LETTER WITH A COAT OF ARMS 

excitement, and then, more soberly, ''But I don’t 
want him to think it was Santa Claus made the 
beaded watch-pocket. — You see. Uncle Tim gives 
me money and- — and — oh, everything, and I ’m 
afraid he might think I was mighty mean if I 
never did anything for him.” 

Nora kissed her enthusiastically. 

‘'Don’t be worrying your little head about 
that,” she said. "I ’ll tell him, and you may be 
sure he ’ll value it more because you made it than 
if you’d bought him all the di’mon’s in Tif- 
fany’s.” 

Their Christmas was a great success and Mr. 
O’Neil was surprised and delighted, just as they 
had hoped he would be, but the album seemed to 
tickle his fancy most, though the girls never quite 
understood why he always laughed so heartily 
when he looked at it. 

"Why is it so funny. Papa?” Nora asked. 

" ’T is just on account of the notions it puts into 
me head,” Mr. O’Neil chuckled. "Sure, all me 
frien’s is here, I ’ve but to turn the leaves to see 
President Lincoln and Queen Victor!’ and ‘The- 

235 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

What-is it?’ and Gineral Grant and the Snake 
Charmer and Clara Louise Kellogg and Major 
Tom Thumb and — ah, ’t is a fine conglomeration 
of notables to be havin’ in the same box.” 

The Christmas holiday passed quickly and soon 
the girls were back at school and their lives ran 
on smoothly with little to break the monotony 
until early spring when preparations for the great 
Metropolitan Fair were begun. 

It was called the Sanitary Fair by most people, 
because it was held for the benefit of the Sanitary 
Commission of the Northern Army. Such fairs 
had been popular throughout the Union and had 
raised huge sums of money. New York planned 
to make theirs larger than any that had preceded 
it. Enthusiasm was aroused in all classes, and 
every one contributed in one way or another to 
its success. 

What interested Nora most, was the special 
children’s department in which both public and 
private schools had been asked to take part. For 
several months before it opened there was 
236 


A LETTER WITH A COAT OF ARMS 


scarcely a child in the city who was not busy with 
some work for it. 

The day of the opening was declared a public 
holiday and all the stores closed in the morning. 
In the afternoon there was a monster parade of 
regulars, volunteers, and militia who were re- 
viewed by Generals Dix and Sandford, and later 
by the mayor. General Anderson, the hero of 
Fort Sumter, was seated in a Broadway window 
and, as the negro troops passed him, their colors 
were lowered in a salute in his honor. 

Broadway and Union Park were crowded to 
suffocation and many a fine crinoline was wrecked 
in the press. 

At eight o’clock the Fair was formally opened 
and of course both Bebee and Nora were there 
with Mr. O’Neil and Mam’selle. They were so 
sleepy when they returned that they scarcely knew 
when they got into bed. 

The next morning at breakfast they were dis- 
cussing among other things, the songs that had 
been sung and Nora expressed her preference for 
the Army Hymn. 


237 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


Bebee shook her head emphatically. 

‘T liked Old Hundred best/’ she said with a 
smile, ’cause it was the last.” 

Mr. O’Neil laughed heartily. 

‘^You ’re right, Bebee, me dear,” he chuckled. 

’T was too long, and that ’s a fact.” 

Which was true, no doubt, but once the Fair 
was opened there was plenty of fun and plenty of 
work for everybody. 

Mr. O’Neil had provided season tickets for all, 
and both the girls were attached to Booth Num- 
ber 10, which was the private school booth, so 
they were free to come and go. Practically they 
lived at the Fair except when they were at school 
or asleep. 

Mam’selle insisted, very sensibly, that they 
should eat their dinner at the Astor House, say- 
ing, ^'Zen zey not so crazy for ze tr-rash,” and 
Mr. O’Neil agreed with her. But, after they had 
eaten, no restraint was put upon them, though 
Nora, in her motherly fashion, now and then de- 
nied herself things she felt Bebee would be better 
without. 


238 


A LETTER WITH A COAT OF ARMS 

The Fair ^ was really a mammoth undertak- 
ing, extending under various roofs from the 
neighborhood of Seventh Avenue as far as the 
North Side of Union Square and from Four- 
teenth to Fifteenth Streets. In these buildings 
were collected thousands of objects either for sale 
or for exhibition, so varied that it would be hard 
to ask for anything that could not be supplied, 
from a painting by Meissonier to the blood-stained 
uniform of Ellsworth of the New York Fire 
Zouaves, the first man to die for the Union; soap 
or a sewing-machine; wax flowers or real blos- 
soms; love-birds or prize turkeys; China tea or 
petticoats; Parisian dolls or race horses; plows, 
diamonds, and hundreds of other things, all dis- 
played under great festoons of flags and green- 
ery, in one grand collection of the luxuries and 
necessities from nearly all the countries on the 
face of the earth. Small wonder if the children 
and grown-ups, too, found the Fair a continual 
delight. 

1 The profits from the Metropolitan Fair amounted to one million 
dollars ; a much more notable sum in those days than in these. — 
E. B. K. 


239 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

It was a funny store, for nearly every one was 
both buying and selling, so that by the beginning 
of the second week there were bare spots in some 
of the tables where the things which had been 
sold had been taken away. Such was the case 
at Booth Number lo, and Nora was asked to as- 
sist in rearranging it. She in turn called upon 
Mam'selle to help with her French deftness, so 
that Bebee, who had nothing in particular to 
do, wandered off to see the Indians whose wig- 
wams had aroused her curiosity. 

She strolled along, looking to right and left, 
and stopping to buy a horn of candy with a pic- 
ture of a beautiful lady pasted upon it, or to ex- 
amine a smoking-cap which she thought might 
do for Uncle Tim, ''if I could only persuade him 
to enjoy it,’’ as she said to herself hopefully; till 
finally she paused at the entrance of a place she 
had never visited. 

She peeped through the door with some curi- 
osity. It was a quaint room with an uncarpeted 
floor, a broad chimney-piece, plain deal dressers, 
old-fashioned chairs and tables, upon which were 
240 







I 


“Mammy'll be right heah’' 


I 



A LETTER WITH A COAT OF ARMS 


placed odd bits of old china. The attendants, 
dressed in costumes of long ago, looked strange to 
the child, but the servants were all colored and 
the great fireplace had a homelike air that at- 
tracted her. 

'Thank fortune, the rush hour ’s over,’’ she 
heard one lady say to another. "We ’ll have time 
to rest now. I verily believe our Knickerbocker 
Kitchen is the success of the fair. Girls,” she 
continued, raising her voice, "you may go now 
for a while. Mandy can send one of the boys 
after us if a crowd comes in early for tea.” 

There was a general rush for the door and a 
chorus of delighted exclamations as the girls, in 
their pretty costumes, left the old kitchen. 

The older lady, evidently in authority, loitered 
a moment and spoke to some one who half rose 
from a high-backed chair beside the fire. 

"You ’ll let us know, Mandy?” she said. 

"Yes, Mistiss, Mammy ’ll be right heah,” and 
then there was silence; but at the sound of the 
voice Bebee jumped as if she had received a 
shock. 


243 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


The back of the chair was turned to her, and 
great folds of flowered chintz on either side were 
all that indicated that it had an occupant, but 
Bebee drew near to it on tiptoe, trembling with 
excitement. 

Beside it she hesitated and put her hand to her 
breast. 

‘'Mammy \” she whispered softly. “Mammy,” 
and there was a sob of yearning in her voice. 

“Who’s dat callin’ ‘Mammy’?” cried the old 
darky woman, straightening in her chair. 
“Who ’s a-callin’ me?” 

“Oh, Mammy !” cried Beb&, and flung herself 
into the arms outstretched to her, tears running 
down her cheeks, and her body shaking with sobs. 


244 


CHAPTER XVII 


IN THE KNICKERBOCKER KITCHEN 

T he old darky woman folded Bebee in her 
ample embrace and sat rocking back and 
forth, petting and soothing her as she might a 
little baby. 

'Theah, theah, honey, I ’s you’ ole mammy 
come back again. My, what a powerful long 
time it has been! Mammy thought sometimes 
her ole heart would bust wantin’ to see her baby.” 

Bebee hugged her tighter and clung to the 
huge woman almost desperately. 

'Tt ’s all right, honey,” Mammy went on, still 
rocking back and forth. ‘'Nothin’ is goin’ to 
happen to you-all while I ’m heah. Look up into 
you’ mammy’s face and let her see how you ’ve 
been growin’ this long while.” 

But Beb& buried her head deeper, still sob- 
bing. 


245 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

‘‘Land sakes, honey/’ whispered Mammy, “if 
you is goin’ to be so sobby when you sees you’ 
mammy, ’pears like she ’d betta’ go away 
again.” 

Still Bebee’s only answer was a tightening of 
the arms. 

“Don’t you-all want to hear what ’s been a-hap- 
penin’ to you’ mammy?” was the next question. 

Beb& nodded her head. 

“Well, then, you jes’ stop this scandalous actin’. 
Might think you was a worthless pickaninny with 
no raisin’ to speak of, ’stead of my own lamb. 
Come, honey, it ’s all you’ ole mammy can do to 
keep her ownse’f togetheh while you is a-cryin’ 
this a-way; for the Lord, he knows I’ve been 
a-wishin’ you in these ole arms every night and 
mornin’ since I see you last, but we mustn’t 
have no foolishness heah, honey, ’cause I ain’t 
ready to have no changes yet.” 

Bebee now lifted up her head. 

“Where have you been all this time?” she 
asked. “They told me you said for me not to 
worry.” 


246 


IN THE KNICKERBOCKER KITCHEN 


'That 's right, honey, said Mammy, rather 
mournfully. 'T tole a young Irish boy to tell 
you that; right pert and sassy he was, but he 
said you was all right and in good hands and 
— and, well, I could a-hugged that boy, sassy or 
no. Yes’m, I tole him to tell you what he did, I 
was that happy.’" 

"You were n’t happy to be rid of me. Mammy?” 
cried Bebee, on the verge of another outburst of 
tears. 

"Well, not quite the way you’s meanin’,” an- 
swered Mammy, "but lemme tell you how it hap- 
pened, so’s you’ll understand. You see, when 
those pesterin’ boys took after you that-a-way, I 
would a-liked to run after you, too; but you 
know, honey, I ain’t what you ’d call a sprinteh, 
so I jes’ sat down to catch ma bref, then along 
comes some of that white trash, and they says, 
referrin’ to me, 'Le ’s hang her.’ ” 

"But they did n’t hang you, did they. Mammy?” 
gasped Bebee. 

" ’Course they did n’t,” she answered sooth- 
ingly. "Ain’t I heah now, holdin’ you jes’ like I 
247 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

used to befohe all this trouble done come? No, 
they said that, and I laughed. Whehe you all 
going to hang me?’ I asked ’em. T don’t mind 
bangin’, but I ’s mighty particular how you all 
does it.’ 

'Oh, don’ you worry about that,’ says one of 
’em, a sort of a leader he was, 'don’ you worry. 
A lamp-pos’ will do all right.’ 

" 'Well,’ says I, kind of cheerful, 'a lamp-pos’ 
looks good, but whehe ’s you’ rope? I ain’t goin’ 
to walk to that lamp-pos’ on no fool’s ehhand,’ 
I says, 'and there ain’t none of you fitten to cahhy 
me.’ 

" 'Here ’s the rope,’ says a man, and then I 
busts right out laughin’. 

" 'What you laughin’ at ? At me ?’ he says 
kind of fierce and lookin’ like he ’s ready to spit 
fiah. 

" 'Land sakes, no ! mistah gem’men,’ I says in 
a hurry. 'I ’s laughin’ at that rope, seh. That 
rope would n’t hole up a good day’s washin’, let 
alone a fat ole niggeh like me. I don’t want to 
be hiked way up theah jes’ to fall down again,’ 
248 


IN THE KNICKERBOCKER KITCHEN 


I says. Tf you don’ take care you ’s mighty apt 
to hurt me.’ 

‘‘Well, they all laughed fit to bust themselves, 
as I was hopin’ they would, all ’ceptin’ that leader 
feller, and he got kind of mad and sassed ’em for 
a minute or two, then he turns back and says, 
‘Come on and string her up!’ ‘Do it youhse’f,’ 
they says, and laughs hearty. 

“Well, you know, honey, there isn’t no one 
man born that can hang youh mammy, and that 
leader fellah knows that too and, though he blus- 
ters a lot, he ain’t makin’ no attempt to tie me up 
to that lamp-pos’ hisse’f and the others jes’ won’t 
help him, but stands laughin’. I don’t know but 
maybe they ’d a-been there yet, ’ceptin’ a crowd 
of boys comes a-runnin’ along, shoutin’ that the 
police is a-comin’, and the first thing I knows I 
was all alone on that dooh-step and feelin’ pow- 
erful lonesome.” 

“I was lonesome, too,” said Bebee with a gulp. 

“ ’Cou’se you was,” said Mammy, patting her. 

“Well, what happened next?” asked Bebee. 

“I was still settin’ on that dooh-step when the 
249 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

dooh behind me opened and a white woman looked 
out. 'Hurry in/ she says. ‘They ’ll come back 
and you won’t get off twicet in the same way.’ 
So, thinkin’ I would n’t be no use to you-all i£ I 
was hangin’ to a lamp-pos’, I slipped inside. 
I ’ve been theah ever since. She ’s a good, Ger- 
man sort of a lady. Not quality folks, you 
un’stand. She ’s all alone, her husband bein’ at 
the war, and I rent a room f ’om her, with the use 
of the yard foh ma washin’.” 

“And didn’t you ever care what became of 
me?” asked Bebee with a choke in her voice. 

Mammy hugged her to her ample bosom. 

“Ah, honey dear, you’ ole mammy was ’most 
crazy, but I could n’t find a trace of you till that 
Irish boy done come up to me on the street that 
a-way. Since that I ’ve had my eye on you, and 
I ’ve seen you drivin’ ’round, though you-all never 
noticed me.” 

“But why did n’t you come to me ?” demanded 
Bebee. “You could stay at the hotel and — 
and—” 

“No, honey,” mammy interrupted. “Mammy’s 
250 


IN THE KNICKERBOCKER KITCHEN 


baby ’s got to be sensible. You-all is happy, is n't 
you?" 

''Oh, yes," answered Bebee, "but I want you. 
I have n't anybody else that 's my own and — and, 
oh. Mammy," she hesitated and looked about her 
with a startled look on her face, "I 've seen him 
again," she whispered. 

Mammy seemed to know at once to whom Bebee 
referred, for she nodded her head. 

"He was theah the night of those riots, honey," 
she answered slowly. "That 's why I ain't never 
come to see you, my lamb, though it most broke 
you' ole mammy's heart." 

Bebee looked at her, perplexed. 

"I don't understand," she said. 

"Well, it's this-a-way," Mammy explained. 
"You 's a heap better pertected now than if you 
was with you' fat ole mammy. That 's what I 've 
been a-thinkin', honey. You 's got a good home 
and fine clo'es and is gettin’ a' education like a 
little lady ought to. And — " 

"But I want you^ Mammy," Bebee broke in. 

"Now you be reasonable, honey," Mammy an- 

251 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
swered persuasively. ‘'You stay whehe you is 
and I dl stay whehe I is.’’ 

‘T ’m not reasonable,” Bebee retorted. “You 
are mine and I order you to come with me.” 

Mammy chuckled to herself till her great fat 
sides shook with suppressed laughter. 

“Up No’th us niggers is all free,” she answered 
with a grin. “We-all is jes’ as bad off as poor 
white trash what don’t belong to nobody. And 
when we ’s hungry or thirsty — why, we can stay 
hungry or thirsty so far as anybody cares. But 
’t ain’t that, honey, I ’m thinkin’ of, an’ you knows 
it without my tellin’ you. I ’s you’ ole mammy 
jes’ so long as the good Lord lets me stay hehe, but 
I can’t take care of my baby like she ought to be 
cared for. Now you rides in youh carriage, but 
with mammy, you ’d be walkin’ in the mud ; so you 
must promise you won’t go and spoil it all by 
tellin’ you seen me.” 

“But can’t you come and live with us?” de- 
manded Bebee. “Uncle Tim would take care of 
you. ’Deed he would.” 

“Maybe ! Maybe !” answered Mammy, nodding 
252 


IN THE KNICKERBOCKER KITCHEN 

her head up and down slowly, ''but it would n’t be 
in nature for him not to be askin’ questions as to 
where we-all came f’om and what ’s ouah names 
and — ’t is n’t hard to guess what would happen 
then, honey.” 

Bebee nodded in agreement with this. She had 
reasoned this out by herself and kept silent, so 
that Mammy’s words only confirmed her own 
judgment. 

"But, Mammy,” she asked falteringly, "is n’t 
there any way I could see you now and then ?” 

"Ain’t you happy where you is?” demanded 
Mammy. 

"Oh, yes,” answered Bebee readily, "I love 
Uncle Tim and Nonie. And they love me too, 
I ’m sure, — but you We my mammy.” Bebee em- 
phasized the words as if nothing further need be 
said. And it was understood by the old darky 
woman, who nodded her agreement. 

"Well, honey, I ’s not denyin’ I certainly would 
like to see you,” she said half to herself. "Jes’ to 
know you was all right, ’cause I do have ma wor- 
ry in’ spells and no mistake. Seems like I jes’ con- 
253 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


jure up things to pester myself with sometimes. 
Honey,” she broke off suddenly, leaning over and 
whispering in Bebee’s ear. ‘^Do you-all think you 
could keep a straight face and not ’pear to know 
your mammy if she was talkin’ to these O’Neil 
folks?” 

‘^Yes, if you wanted me to,” answered B6h6e, 

‘Well, honey,’' Mammy went on, unfolding her 
scheme, “you ’ve seen the signs like that one oveh 
thehe about tellin’ fortunes, hey? I can’t read 
jes’ rightly what they say, but folks pay money for 
it, two bits for a fortune.” 

“Oh!” exclaimed Bebee. “I see what you 
mean. You want Uncle Tim and Nora to have 
their fortunes told, so that you can talk to them.” 

“My heart, but you ’s the clevah baby,” said 
Mammy, admiringly, “but is you sure you can 
pretend you never seen me before ?” 

“Yes,” said Bebee, “I think I can.” 

“Then you bring ’em here, and I ’ll see if I 
can’t fix it so as we all can see each otheh now 
and then. Run away now, and come strollin’ in 
’long about tea-time.” 


254 


IN THE KNICKERBOCKER KITCHEN 

With a parting hug Bebee ran off, overjoyed 
that she had seen her old mammy again and con- 
fident that the old darky woman would find some 
way to insure future meetings. 


255 


CHAPTER XVIII 

TEA-LEAVES AND PROPHECIES 


B ee EE had no difficulty in carrying out 
Mammy’s plan. She found Mr. O’Neil at 
the booth with Nora, who had just finished 
with her task. And as she was in the habit of 
going around the Fair alone there were no ques- 
tions asked as to where she had been. The three 
wandered about together, Mr. O’Neil buying 
nearly all the things that were offered to him, for 
he professed the belief that it was his duty to 
spend all he could, considering that the cruel war 
was making him as he said, 'Too rich for com- 
fort.” 

About an hour later Bebee stopped them near 
the Knickerbocker Kitchen. 

"Have you ever been in there ?” she asked inno- 
cently. 

"We have not,” said Mr. O’Neil, "and faith, 
256 


TEA-LEAVES AND PROPHECIES 


’t is awful empty I feel. What do ye say, girls, 
to a cup of tea and maybe a doughnut?'' 

Nora hailed this suggestion with delight and 
soon they were seated at the table near a crowd 
of other thirsty people. 

Bebee looked around and saw nothing of 
Mammy and her heart misgave her. Perhaps, 
after all, she would n't see the old darky again. 
The changes in her life came so swiftly and un- 
expectedly that she could hardly count upon any- 
thing happening as it was planned. However, 
she called Nora's attention to the signs telling of 
fortunes being read and that young lady promptly 
appealed to her father. 

''Sure, Daddy, I must have me fortune told. 
I 'm particular to know what 's goin' to happen." 

"Of course," said Mr. O'Neil, looking up in- 
quiringly at the young colored waitress. 

"I don't tell fortunes, sir," she said politely. 
"I don't know nothin' about conjurin’, but we 've 
got a mighty wise ole woman that does, and 
I 'll call her, sir." And off she went. 

" 'T is a homey sort of place," said Mr. O'Neil, 

257 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
leaning back in his chair and looking about him 
contentedly. 

He was facing a door that led into the kitchens 
and Bebee, too, could see it, but Nora, on the 
opposite side of the table, had her back to it. 
She was a little startled, then, to see her father 
suddenly stiffen in his seat, fixing his gaze on 
something behind her, and then turn and look 
intently at Bebee. Nora, extremely sensitive to 
anything that might concern the child, turned, too, 
and looked back. 

Coming toward them, in rustling, stiffly 
starched skirts, was an immense old darky 
woman, her head bound in a gay bandana, and a 
white kerchief at her throat throwing into strong 
relief her kindly, black face. 

Instantly the same thought that had come into 
Mr. O’NeiFs mind brought Nora’s head around 
to face Bebee, but if either of them expected 
anything from the child they were mistaken. 
Bebee looked at the old negress calmly, with a 
half smile on her face, but no sign of recognition. 

With a long intake of breath, Nora leaned back 
258 


TEA-LEAVES AND PROPHECIES 

in her chair, and Mr. O'Neil too seemed less dis- 
turbed. Each thought that if this had been 
Bebee’s mammy the child would have run to her 
on sight. 

Nora looked around again and all three 
watched the huge old darky woman make her way 
slowly and with much dignity toward their table. 
Her hands were folded across her ample waist- 
line and as she passed between the tables she 
smiled benignly at the people seated at them as a 
great lady might upon her distinguished guests. 
Nearly every one in the room turned to look at 
her, whispering to one another with a smile and 
a nod in her direction but there was an inherent 
self-respect about the old colored woman that 
made laughing at her quite out of the question. 

She bobbed politely to each in turn as she 
reached them, but, though Nora and Mr. O'Neil 
looked for a show of surprise or recognition when 
she saw Bebee, no sign escaped her. 

‘‘You all 'scuse me, please, if I set down,’^ she 
began in a melodious voice, and with a great rus- 
tling, she subsided into the chair the waitress had 

259 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


provided for her. Then a small tray with the 
usual tea-pot, several cups, a pot of boiling water 
and a tiny red lacquered tea-caddy were placed on 
the table. 

‘^And now which young missy wants to know 
her fortune?'^ asked the old woman, turning to 
them with an inviting smile. 

There was an argument over this, till at length 
Bebee protested positively that she didn’t wish 
hers told at all, and Nora signified her willing- 
ness to comply. In fact, she wanted hers told, 
hoping that something might be said that would 
ease her anxieties about Bebee. 

‘Then you brew the tea, honey,” said Mammy 
to Nora. 

“But we have plenty here,” Nora replied 
in surprise, as she touched the tea-pot on the 
table. 

“But you did n’t make it, honey,” said the old 
woman showing her white teeth. “That makes a 
heap of difference, I ’m tellin’ you.” 

“How much shall I use?” asked Nora, begin- 
ning to make her preparations. 

260 


TEA-LEAVES AND PROPHECIES 

'"You must ’cide that for yourself/’ answered 
Mammy. 

Nora drew the pot toward her and lifted the 
lid, letting out a puff of steam. Then she looked 
at the’ quantity of water and threw in some tea- 
leaves hastily. The old woman nodded approval. 

^‘Now, missy, you must wish one secret wish,” 
she said impressively, ‘^but it must be the wish of 
your heart, and I ’ll tell you will it come true or 
no. 

You’d better be whisperin’ it into your 
Daddy’s ear, Nonie,” said her father. ’T will 
be surer cornin’ true than a secret ’twixt you and 
the teapot.” 

‘They ’s some things, seh, she might wish, that 
even her father could n’t get for her,” muttered 
the old negress. 

Nora looked at her quickly. It seemed as if 
her thoughts had been read in some mysterious 
way, for she had wished that Bebee’s relatives 
might never be found. It was in truth her dear- 
est wish just then. 

“Now then,” said Mammy, “you jes’ pour some 
261 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


of this new tea into this here cup. Not too 
much/’ she added hastily, as Nora started to obey 
with eager generosity. ‘^Now tas’e it,” she 
ended. 

Nora complied by sipping it. 

'Ts it bitteh?” asked Mammy. 

‘^No, it ’s nice,” answered Nora. 

‘‘Stir three times to the right,” was the next 
order, as Mammy handed her a spoon. 

So serious was the old negress that, in spite of 
themselves, all leaned over the cup to see what 
would happen, and floating up from the bottom 
came two tea-leaves which, at first far apart, 
seemed to rush toward each other and embrace, 
while they watched. 

Meanwhile Mammy was crooning unintelligible 
words to herself that made a low murmur. As 
the tea-leaves came together she gave a happy 
little chuckle. 

‘'Now if you was a little older, honey,” she 
said, addressing Nora, ‘T might be suspicionin’ a 
lover for you, but ’t aint that nohow. It ’s a little 
lady.” 


262 


TEA-LEAVES AND PROPHECIES 


‘‘Now how do you make that out?'’ demanded 
Mr. O’Neil, bending over the cup. 

“Why can’t you see, seh,” answered Mammy; 
“can’t you see they bofe has skirts ?” 

“Do you mean the little frills around the 
leaves?” asked Mr. O’Neil with a smile. 

“Sure ! They ’s little ladies,” Mammy vowed, 
and then went on with her fortune-telling. 

“Stir again,” she commanded, “only this time 
it must be the otheh way.” 

Nora did as she was told, but the two leaves 
still stayed together. 

Again the old darky woman chuckled as if what 
she saw pleased her mightily. 

“Good! Good!” she exclaimed, “they’s fast 
frien’s. Youh luck is certainly tied up togetheh, 
’ceptin’ some one comes to separate you. You 
stir the cup, seh,” went on Mammy, turning to Mr. 
O’Neil. 

“I ’ve no wish to part ’em,” he said with a 
shake of his head. “ ’Tis the last thing I’d 
do!” 

“It ain’t what you ’s wishin’, seh,” said Mammy, 
263 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
's whether you can or no. Try it, seh, if you 
please.^’ 

Mr. O'Neil took the spoon and stirred the tea. 
The two leaves whirled around together. Again 
he tried, this time more violently, almost as if he 
wished to separate them, and then, reluctantly, 
they slowly floated apart. 

Nora gave a little cry of dismay and dropped 
her spoon in the cup, when instantly the leaves 
came together again. 

‘'Oh, see !" she cried delightedly, “they are hug- 
ging each other. Even you can't separate them. 
Daddy." 

“They ain't meanin' to be away from each otheh 
for long, nohow," said the old darky. “They 
certainly is frien's, those two, — ^but I don't like 
the look of that," she commented, bending over 
the cup, and pointing to an angular stick that had 
suddenly come to the surface and seemed to be 
hovering menacingly over the two lady-leaves. 

“It certainly am a bad man. Stir it again, 
honey." 

Nora did as she was told and now one of the 
264 . 


TEA-LEAVES AND PROPHECIES 


leaves separated from the other and seemed de- 
liberately to cast itself in the way of the bad 
stick. A disaster seemed imminent when the old 
woman suddenly stuck her black finger into the 
cup. Immediately all confusion stopped, the two 
friends came hurrying together, and the angular 
stick sank to the bottom. 

It was all very real indeed, when everything was 
forgotten but the cup and while the old negress 
chanted her soothing, mysterious sort of song. 

‘'Now what’s that all about?” demanded Mr. 
O’Neil, impressed by Mammy’s evident satis- 
faction at the result. 

“Wait till we try this cup, sir,” she said, “then 
I ’ll tell you.” 

She held out a second cup for Nora to fill with 
tea. 

“Now stir,” she commanded, but she looked at 
the result with a dissatisfied eye. 

“Try again,” she said at last. 

But again the result gave her no satisfaction. 
She poured off the tea from the leaves lying on the 
bottom of the cup and studied them carefully. 

265 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


At length she spoke to Nora. 

'T can’t help it, though I Ve tried ; it ’s come out 
that way and it ’s bound to be true. You Ve got a 
frien’, young missy, an’ you thinks you love her, 
and you does. You ’ll never be separated from 
her foh long, ’ceptin’ ’t is by a bad man that you 
must look out foh. He ’ll have a long nose and a’ 
evil face. Watch out foh him, and for a letteh. 
I certainly see danger in the letteh, though what 
it is I can’t read nohow — and I ’s sorry to tell you 
you won’t get your wish.” 

‘'Oh, don’t say that !” cried Nora. ‘T just must 
have it.” 

“Sometimes, honey,” said the old darky woman 
solemnly, “you gets betteh than what you was 
wishin’ to have. I don’t see nothin’ very bad 
cornin’ to you, and you said that you’ sip of the 
cup of life didn’t tas’e bitteh nohow. You all 
will live long and be happy, and I certainly do wish 
you well, honey, for the sake of the kind heart 
shinin’ out of youh eyes.” 

It seemed to Mr. O’Neil that there was more 
real feeling in the old woman’s words than would 
266 







“I’se sorry to tell yon, you won't get your wish 



















TEA-LEAVES AND PROPHECIES 

be expectqd from a darky fortune-teller who had 
never seen them before and who, in all likeli- 
hood, never expected to see them again. And 
once more a suspicion came into his mind and he 
looked at Bebee out of the corner of his eye. 
There was nothing, however, to confirm his 
thought, and the old woman was about to leave 
them, her fortune-telling being over, when she 
stopped and said : 

'Tf you dl 'scuse me, seh,’’ she said, ^T ’se been 
wonderin’ if you all did n’t want a fine washeh and 
ihoner? Seein’ your two daughters, seh, and 
knowin’ how many pretty dresses they mus’ have. 
I ’d take special pains doin’ them, seh, and there 
ain’t nobody in this here town can flute ruffles bet- 
ter than me, if I do say so.” 

''But don’t you tell fortunes for a living?” asked 
Nora in surprise. 

"Now, missy, you would n’t ’spect a great, big 
woman like me to get enough to feed her tellin’ 
fortunes, would you?” She laughed heartily, 
throwing back her head. "No, no, missy, the 
Faih will soon be over and that ’s the end of my 
269 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

fortune-tellin’. I 's a clear-starcher by pufes- 
sion, and I certainly would like to have youh work 
to do/’ 

‘'Oh, Nonie, let ’s have her!” exclaimed Bebee 
eagerly. “You know our washwoman tears 
things to pieces.” 

“We can try her,” said Nora. “You can come 
for the wash on Monday ?” 

“Yes, missy,” said the old woman beaming upon 
her. “Thank you kindly, I ’ll be ’round on Mon- 
day. The Faih will be closed by then.” 

She lifted herself out of her chair with an ef- 
fort and was about to go away. 

“Just a minute, please,” said Mr. O’Neil. 
“Were you in New York during the riots?” 

“Why, yes, seh,” answered Mammy looking 
surprised. 

“Where were you living?” asked Mr. O’Neil. 

“I have a room with a German lady,” answered 
Mammy. “It ’s ’way up town but I have a nice 
grass-plat where I can sun-bleach. You know, 
seh, there ’s nothin’ like the sun to bleach and — ” 

“Did ye ever hear of any colored people who 
270 


TEA-LEAVES AND PROPHECIES 

were hurt in those riots Mr. O’Neil inter- 
rupted. 

''Why, yes, seh, I certainly did, seh,” she an- 
swered readily. "There was a heap of ’em 
badgered, and one ole woman, a big woman she 
was, as big as me, seh, and that ’s pretty big,” she 
stopped to smile broadly, "she was chased by a 
crowd that was threatenin’ to hang her. I don’t 
know, seh, whehe they thought that ole woman 
went to.” 

Into both Nora’s and Mr. O’Neil’s minds came 
the same idea. "There is another one.” 

Aloud Mr. O’Neil said, 

"By the way, what is your name?” 

"Well, seh, I ’se got considerable name,” 
Mammy said after a moment. "You know, down 
Souf, we-all is mighty proud of ouh names. 
I ’se christened Geo’gia, No’th Ca’olina, Alabama, 
’Ouisiana, Mandlebaum, but I ’se called Mandy 
for short.” 

Mr. O’Neil pushed back his chair with a laugh 
and they all rose. 

"Here, Mandy,” he said, taking a bill out of 
271 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


his pocket and giving it to the old woman, ^'this 
will pay for the tea and fortune-telling and some- 
thing over/^ 

'Thank you, sir,’’ said Mammy with a pleased 
bob. 

"And we ’ll see you on Monday then,” said 
Bebee, a little too anxiously, for Mr. O’Neil 
glanced at her sidewise. 

"Yes, missy,” answered the old darky with a 
broad grin, "on Monday.” 

That evening when Nora came to kiss her 
father good night, he pulled her down on his 
knees for a moment. 

"Nora darlin’, did you tell Mandy where to 
come for the wash ?” he asked her. 

Nora thought for a moment and then clasped 
her hands in consternation. 

"Why, Daddy, I never did. I must tell her to- 
morrow.” 

"No, leave that to me, me dear,” answered her 
father. "I don’t think she ’s needin’ to be told,” 
he muttered to himself. " ’T is very queer, this 
fortune-tellin’, but it ain’t no way hard when 
272 


TEA-LEAVES AND PROPHECIES 


you have all the facts beforehand. I ’m thinkin’ 
Mandy knows where we Te Hvin^ all right, and 
no need to go out of me road to inform her.’^ 

It was no easy matter for Mr. O’Neil to make 
up his mind to test his suspicions that the old 
negro woman whom they had seen at the Knick- 
erbocker Kitchen was Bebee’s lost mammy. 
Nothing would have pleased him more than to 
discover for a certainty that the little girl who 
had come so strangely into their lives was with- 
out a relative in the world. He would have 
adopted her with a grateful heart, and rejoiced to 
have her for a sister for his darling Nora. In- 
deed he had grown very fond of the child himself 
and knew it would be a sad parting if it developed 
that Bebee must leave them. Moreover he dared 
not think of what the effect on Nora would be, 
after all these months of intimacy. 

But Mr. O’Neil was an honest man, and he told 
himself that, no matter how indifferent Beb&’s 
relatives seemed, he had no right to keep her if 
they wanted her and had lost her through some 
mischance resulting from the struggle between 

273 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
the North and South. Therefore he felt it his 
duty to test his suspicions, and see what the old 
darky woman would say. 

Promptly on the following Monday Mammy 
came for the wash, stiffly starched and as neat 
as a new pin. She entered the parlor smiling 
and showing her fine white teeth, as she bobbed a 
ponderous courtesy to each in turn. 

‘Tt certainly am a lovely mornin’, seh,’’ she said, 
politely to Mr. O’Neil. 

The two little girls were leading her into their 
room, going on ahead to show the way, when Mr. 
O’Neil stopped her at the door. 

‘^Oh, by the way,” he said, ^'your name is 
Mandy, is n’t it?” 

‘"Yes, seh,” answered Mammy, still smiling, 
'"Mandy foh short.” 

"Well, Mandy,’' Mr. O’Neil went on looking at 
her sharply, "how did it happen that ye knew 
where we lived? None of us told ye our address, 
yet here ye are. I ’d like some explanation.” 

Mammy looked a little nervous and her smile 
vanished. 


TEA-LEAVES AND PROPHECIES 


'T see you suspicions me, Mr. O’Neil,'’ she said 
softly. ‘'Well, seh, I guess I ’d bettah make a 
clean breas’ of it, ’cause I don’t hold none with 
deceptions, and my conscience has been kind o’ 
busy prickin’ me ever since I saw you-all. This 
is how it happened, seh, as true as I ’m tellin’ 
you.” 

She paused a moment and Mr. O’Neil braced 
himself for the revelation that had been hanging 
over him all these months that Bebee had been 
with them. He found himself saying “Poor 
Nonie!” and was on the point of stopping the old 
woman, but he had made up his mind that he 
ought to get at the truth for the child’s sake. 

“Go ahead,” he commanded gruffly, and 
Mammy made her confession. 

“I ain’t the regular fortune-teller at the Fair, 
nohow,” Mammy began abruptly. “I ’s jes’ an old 
cul’lud washwoman, but you see, seh, eve’ybody 
at the Fair was a-talkin’ about the rich Mistah 
O’Neil and his two little girls down to the Astor 
House, so, when I beared that you-all was a- 
lookin’ for your fortunes, the regular conjure- 
275 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


woman bein’ sick, I tells that worthless girl I ’d 
do it, hopin’ I might get your washin’.” 

Mandy looked so big and so honest and yet so 
penitent for what, to Mr. O’Neil, seemed a most 
trivial deception, that he brushed his suspicions 
aside with a glad heart. 

‘'All right,” he said, breaking in upon her 
profuse expressions of regret, “it ’s all right ; so 
long as Miss Nora is satisfied, I ’ll be.” And he 
dismissed Mandy with a curt nod. 

There was no doubt that Bebee enjoyed seeing 
the old darky, and once or twice Nora noticed it, 
but she told herself that it was just the natural 
liking that Southern children had for colored peo- 
ple, and soon she herself grew to look forward 
to Mammy’s regular visits almost as much as Be- 
bee did. 

That summer they spent at Saratoga where 
many rich and fashionable people went to drink 
the waters of the famous springs and to attend 
the races, just as if the armies of Lee and Grant 
were not at death grips in Virginia. 

So long as Mr. O’Neil was there they enjoyed it 
276 


TEA-LEAVES AND PROPHECIES 


hugely, but one day a letter in a blue envelope 
was found lying on the breakfast table and the 
children knew it was the usual signal for his 
departure. 

Bebee, thinking that Nora would like a moment 
alone with her father before he left, went out on 
the porch of the hotel, intending to say good-by to 
Uncle Tim on his way to the train. 

She seated herself in one of the big rocking- 
chairs, looking very small between its huge arms. 
She wished heartily that Mr. O'Neil was not 
going away. Her short life had seen many 
changes and, except when she had fallen in with 
Nora, none of them had been for the better. 
Mr. O'Neil seemed so strong to her that she al- 
ways felt safe when he was near. She was sure 
that he would take good care of his own, and she 
belonged to him now. If only he could stay with 
them always ! As this passed through her mind 
she heard the scrape of a chair being drawn up 
beside her and turning, looked into the eyes of the 
hawk-faced man she had seen at Stewart's long 
months before. 

277 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. HITCHENS 
ITH a sharp indrawing of her breath, 



Bebee jumped to her feet, ready to fly 


away from the man she seemed to fear. 

‘'You 'd betteh not go till I Ve had a talk with 
you,’’ he said, under his breath, with a distinct 
Southern drawl to his words. “If you are as 
wise as I think you are, you ’ll sit down and not 
make a scene.” 

Bebee, with a helpless glance around her, sub- 
sided into the chair again. 

“I see you know me,” the man went on. 

“But I don’t know you !” Bebee interrupted. 

“Well, you ’ve seen me before,” he declared. 

“Yes,” said Bebee, “you are the man on the 
barrel, who told the crowd in New York that 
President Lincoln was going to give their work 
to the darkies, and made them burn the houses. I 
wish I had never seen you.” 


278 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. HITCHENS 

''Now that is n't mannehs !" the man said with 
a smile, "but let me tell you at once that I don't 
mean you any harm if — ah — if you do as you are 
told, that is." 

Again Bebee jumped to her feet, intending to 
run and warn Mr. O'Neil of this man's presence. 
She must put all the people in the hotel on their 
guard at once. But the man had no intention of 
letting her escape. He was on his feet as soon 
as she and, grasping her by the arm, forced her 
back into her chair. 

"Don't be up to any tricks with me, my lady," 
he said in a harsh undertone. "You and I are 
going to see a heap of each other, and don't you 
fohget it. My name is Hitchens, understand. 
Mistah John Hitchens from Cleveland, Ohio. 
And that 's what you 'll tell people if any one 
asks you. We don't talk about our Southehn 
blood up No'th, do we, hey ?" 

He stopped a minute as if expecting an an- 
swer but Bebee made none. She sat straight 
and rigid, her little heart doubling its beat. 

"Now as I was telling you," the man went on, 
279 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


'm not going to harm you any, if you do what 
I want; and that 's very little/' 

'What is it?" asked Bebee, in so low a voice 
that the man could just hear it. 

'T want a certain blue envelope that Mr. 
O'Neil received this morning," he answered 
softly. "That's all. Put it in my hands and 
you 'll see the last of me for a long time." 

"He 'll give it to you if it is yours," suggested 
Bebee innocently. 

"Never mind whose it is," the man growled in 
answer. "I mean you to get it for me, and mighty 
quick too. More than that, no one is to know you 
did it." 

"You mean me to steal it?" exclaimed Bebee 
in absolute astonishment. 

"Hush! Not so loud," cautioned Hitchens, 
glancing about uneasily. 

"I don't care," Bebee went on recklessly. "I 
won't steal from Uncle Tim who is so good to me. 
I won't do it." 

"Very well, then," growled the other. "But 
you know what to expect." 

280 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. HITCHENS 

‘T won’t steal the letter, no matter what you 
do,” answered the child. 

“And what do you think would happen if I 
whispered in Mr. O’Neil’s ear just who and what 
you are, hey ?” Hitchens went on. “Do you think 
they ’d keep you with them a minute after they 
knew?” 

“I don’t believe Nonie would care,” Bebee an- 
swered bravely, but her little face was drawn with 
anguish. “Nonie loves me,” she added under her 
breath. 

“You know what happened in Geohgia?” 
Hitchens said threateningly. “And what hap- 
pened in Chahleston and what happened in New 
Yohk? Well, do you want it to happen in Saha- 
toga?” 

Bebee shuddered. The man’s words brought 
back to her all those memories that had been 
growing dim under the loving care of Nora and 
Mr. O’Neil, all the sad and unhappy past that she 
would like to forget utterly. 

“But you are n’t going to be foolish enough to 
make me inform on you,” Hitchens continued. 

281 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘^Every one hates a renegade, a common traitor ! 
I don’t care a snap of my fingers for these Yankees 
you ’re with. They can take up with whom they 
like so fah as I am concerned, but I don’t believe 
they’re overfond of a traitor, No’th or South. 
Now here ’s your chance to do something for the 
land you were bohn in. It will mean a lot to you 
and youhs, and make some folks we both know of 
think a heap different from what they have done. 
Come now, my girl, don’t be foolish. You 
know where O’Neil keeps his papers, and I want 
you to get me that blue envelope. You can come 
back to the hotel while the others are at the band 
concert.” 

The significance of this remark was at once 
apparent to Bebee. It showed conclusively, that 
Mr. Hitchens, as he called himself, did not know 
that Uncle Tim was at that very moment getting 
ready to go away. And the plan formed in her 
mind to keep him here till it was too late to steal 
anything. 

‘'But, you see, I don’t believe they would let me 
come back to the hotel,” the child suggested, keep- 
282 


THE MYSTERIOUS MR. HITCHENS 

ing this idea of delay before her, and seeming for 
the first time to consider doing what he wished. 
'If there was anything I said I wanted they 
would send Mam'selle.’’ 

"Well, can’t you take the woman with you and 
let her stay on the pohch,” said Hitchens, impa- 
tiently. "If you told heh you would only be a 
minute she ’d wait and let you go alone. I ’ll 
be thehe to get the papers.” 

"What do you want the papers for?” asked 
Bebee. "They are n’t much account. Uncle 
Tim once said he wished I ’d burned them up.” 

"Never mind what I want them for !” growled 
the man, in answer. "I want them, and it ’s plain 
if O’Neil said you could burn them up it won’t be 
stealing to take them.” 

"He did n’t seem to care about them,” agreed 
Bebee. 

"Then you’ll get them?” asked the man ea- 
gerly. 

"I don’t see why I should do this for you,” the 
child began ; but he interrupted her menacingly. 

"If you use your memory you’ll know,” he 
283 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
said. ‘Tf you have n’t fohgotten Geohgia I 
reckon you ’ll remembeh that I usually get what 
I want — or make trouble.” 

Bebee looked about her nervously. The man 
before her was connected in her mind with all the 
unhappiness she had known in the world and 
even seemed to be the cause of most of it. She 
tried to think a suitable answer to keep him there 
longer, when the sound of footsteps coming rap- 
idly toward them interrupted. 

It was Mam’selle and she called hurriedly, 

“Mademoiselle Bebee, where have you stay’ 
that you do not bid your uncle good-by? He 
leave’ on the instant! Now he is go away and 
Mademoiselle Nora she cry.” 

“So!” muttered Hitchens under his breath. 
“You’ve kept me talking hehe, knowing all the 
time that O’Neil was leaving! Well, young 
lady, you have n’t finished with me yet, remem- 
beh.” But Bebee had flashed by him without a 
word. 

To Mr. O’Neil and Nora, Bebee’s extreme dis- 
tress at his departure was a surprise. She was 
284 



“I usually get what I want — or make trouble’’ 






THE MYSTERIOUS MR. HITCHENS 

white-faced and trembling when she flung her 
arms about him and begged him not to go. 

‘"But I must, me dear,’" he answered gently. 
''Sure, to be leavin’ you and Nonie together is me 
only comfort.” 

"But you ’ll be back soon. Uncle Tim,” Bebee 
begged. "Oh, please say you ’ll be back soon?” 

She clung to him in desperation, burying her 
head on his shoulder as if to hide herself. 

"I ’ll not be sayin’ when, but ’t will be as soon 
as I can. That I ’ll promise you,” Mr. O’Neil 
assured her, and then, reluctantly, she let him 
go. 

It was plain to Nora that Bebee was not herself 
after Mr. O’Neil left them. Out of doors she 
was shy and nervous, casting furtive glances 
about as if she feared something. Even in the 
hotel, safe in her room, she jumped at the slight- 
est noise, and when at length it was decided that 
they should return to New York, the sight of the 
child’s relief was pathetic. 

"I don’t think this hotel could be burned, do 
you, Nonie?” she said, with a confident smile 
287 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
when they were settled once more in the Astor 
House. 

‘Indeed I don’t/’ answered Nora, happy to see 
Bebee like herself again, “but what put such a no- 
tion into your head ?” 

“Oh, nothing,” answered Bebee evasively, and 
then she ran and kissed Nora rapturously. “Oh, 
I ’m so glad to be back in the safe city, Nonie.” 

Many questions came into Nora’s mind but she 
did n’t press for any further explanation. 


288 


CHAPTER XX 


OYSTERS AND RED BALLOONS 

M r. O'NEIL returned from Washington 
late in October bringing with him the 
stirring story of Sheridan's ride from Win- 
chester, and Early's defeat. Good news indeed 
for the patriots in the Astor House lobby, where 
he received an ovation. Upstairs in his own 
apartment, he met with a warm welcome, too, al- 
though war was never mentioned. It would be 
hard to tell which of the girls was more delighted 
to see him, and he was very happy to be with 
them again. 

^'Sure, Nonie, ye 're growin','’ he said, stand- 
ing a little distance away while he regarded her 
critically. '^No one can say ye 're broad as ye 're 
long now; and Bebee too," he went on, turning 
toward her. ''She 's nigh as tall as you and as 
sweet and pretty as a moss-rose." 

289 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘'Daddy cried Nora greatly shocked, “you dl 
turn the child’s head, with your stylish compli- 
ments. Remember that ‘praise to the face is 
open disgrace,’ as you ’ve told me yourself.” 

“But ’t is all in the family,” protested Mr. 
O’Neil. 

Bebee laughed heartily, with no appearance of 
being unduly affected by his flattery. 

“ ’T is Nonie ’s the pretty one. Uncle Tim,” she 
cried gaily. “You should have heard the fore- 
woman at Madame Demorest’s. She called Ma- 
dame herself to see how fine Nonie looked.” 

“Oh, I might have observed it,” said Mr. 
O’Neil with a twinkle in his eye, “but ‘praise to 
the face’ — ye know the rest. I ’d hate to spoil the 
child.” He made a ludicrous attempt to imitate 
Nora, who blushed while they laughed at her. 

“Just wait till you see her in her new dress,” 
Bebee warned him. “You ’ll not be able to tell 
her how pretty she is.” 

“Now ’t is her own taste she ’s braggin’ of,” 
Nora put in. “She would n’t let Madame Dem- 
orest sell me a Psyche robe of turtle-dove rep — ” 
290 


OYSTERS AND RED BALLOONS 


‘Tt made her look pasty/' Bebee interrupted. 
‘Tt showed all her freckles and — and she 's a pic- 
ture in the sea-green mohair with chataigne vel- 
vet, — her Garibaldi 's white with brown velvet 
and—" 

^'Oh, worra! worra!" exclaimed Mr. O'Neil, 
holding up his hands in consternation. 
‘^Haven't I always said I had no use for dead 
languages? Go put it on, Nonie, and save me 
life." 

'T 'm not going to leave you now, to try on 
dresses," Nora protested. ‘T '11 wear it on Sun- 
day. Then you '11 see both of them." 

''Both of them," repeated Mr. O'Neil vaguely. 
"Do ye wear two dresses then ? Is that the latest 
style?" 

Bebee and Nora laughed gaily. 

"No, Daddy dear," cried Nora. " 'T is only 
that Bthte has one, too. We dress just alike, 
because I 've observed at the Seminary that sis- 
ters often do." 

"So that 's it," said Mr. O'Neil; "a fine plan I 
call that. Sure they give 'em to ye cheaper, 
291 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


don’t they, when ye buy double the quantity?” 

‘T don’t know about the price,” answered 
Nora, ‘'but don’t let ’s talk about old dresses any 
more. Tell us, are you back for good?” 

“For the best part of the winter,” replied Mr. 
O’Neil, seating himself and taking one of the 
girls on each knee. “The two armies are sittin’ 
lookin’ at each other across the Rapidan River 
down in Virginia. ’T is a funny thing is war. 
There ’s the boys on both sides, as friendly as ye 
please when there’s no fightin’ to be done. 
Sendin’ messages acrost to each other by little 
kites and exchangin’ tobacco and coffee by boats 
that they whittle out of wood and sail down the 
stream. Letters and newspapers and what not, 
goin’ and cornin’ as if they were the greatest 
friends in all the world. That ’s one of the ways 
I ’ve tried for news for Lady Castleton, but I ’ve 
got none.” 

“That ’s too bad,” said Nora sympathetically, 
but letting the subject drop, for she still was un- 
easy about the coat of arms. 

Mr. O’Neil’s return was a signal for a great in- 
292 


OYSTERS AND RED BALLOONS 

crease in the two girls’ amusements. He was 
never so happy as when he was making them 
happy, and he took them to theaters, the opera 
and the concerts or whatever happened to be 
going on. Indeed there was a great deal of 
gaiety at this time in the South as well as the 
North, for it seemed as if the people, saddened by 
the conflict, hailed any form of entertainment as 
a relief. This was so noticeable that foreign 
writers accused the Americans of heartlessness.^ 

'The red balloons are up!” Mr. O’Neil cried 
one afternoon, as he came in. "We’ll have oys- 
ters to-night. Get on your bonnets and we’ll go 
to Dorian’s for supper. ’T is famous for sea- 
foods of all sorts.” 

They went with huge delight and, outside, 
Bebee stopped to look at the big red muslin ball 
with a candle burning inside that showed the 
world that oysters were in town. Nor was she 
the only one who paused. 

Nora and Bebee watched the people crowded in 

1 A correspondent of the “London Times” wrote that the luxury 
and extravagance was “shocking”; but, “There may be a deal of 
bravado in all this apparent indifference.” — E. B. K. 

293 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


the restaurant, quite unconscious of the many 
admiring glances cast in their direction. They 
were dressed alike, and Mr. O’Neil, sitting be- 
tween them, chuckled proudly, quite aware that 
there was no prettier sight to be seen in the place 
than his two girls. 

Once, however, his glance grew stern. 

''And who are ye starin’ at ?” he said under his 
breath, starting forward as if he intended to rise. 

The children looked at him in surprise. 

"Who is staring. Uncle Tim?'’ asked Bebee, 
turning in her seat, for Mr. O’Neil’s gaze was di- 
rected behind her. 

" ’T is a man I seem to have seen before. He ’s 
gone now,” answered Mr. O’Neil, "but I did n’t 
like his looks and that ’s a fact.” 

"The only kind of starers I mind are those 
with big noses like birds’ beaks,” said Bebee. "I 
can’t bear that kind, it makes me think of horrid 
things.” 

It so happened that the man who had annoyed 
Mr. O’Neil answered that description exactly, 
and he looked at her sharply. 

294 


OYSTERS AND RED BALLOONS 

'What sort of horrid things do they make ye 
think of, me dear?’’ he asked. 

"Oh, of riots and — houses burning, with big 
orange and yellow flames and — down there, you 
know.” 

She stopped abruptly, looking about her in a 
frightened way as if she scented danger. 

"Me dear,” said Mr. O’Neil earnestly, "don’t 
worrit your little head. Nothin’ can hurt ye 
now.” 

"Oh, don’t let Bebee talk of riots and fires,” 
Nora insisted. "It makes her nervous, and I 
don’t wonder, seein’ what she went through.” 

The subject was changed and Bebee’s agita- 
tion was soon forgotten. 

On the following morning Nora had lingered 
after Mam’selle and the child had gone down to 
the carriage on their way to school, and she was 
still fixing her veil over her face as she left their 
parlor. She had on the same dress she had worn 
the night before, so that in that dark hallway 
a person might easily mistake her for Be- 
bee. 


295 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

As Nora neared the stairs a hand was laid on 
her shoulder. 

‘7ust a minute, my deah,’' said a strange voice 
in her ear, and, with a start, she looked up into a 
hawklike face that smiled grimly down upon her. 
It was the Mr. Hitchens whom Bebee had encoun- 
tered at Saratoga. 

‘'You won’t fool me .again like you did at the 
Springs,” the man went on. “You were mighty 
cleveh neveh to let me know O^Neil was going 
away so soon. But that trick won’t work twice. 
He ’s back, and the letters in the blue envelopes 
will be cornin’ heah again. I want them, undeh- 
stand, all of them, and this time you are to get 
them for me.” 

Nora, after the first moment of surprise, got 
her wits together as quickly as she could. It was 
clear to her at once that this man thought she was 
Bebee, and she stood still waiting for him to 
commit himself further. The minute danger 
threatened her friend she forgot herself, and she 
had no doubt that here was the big-nosed man, 
the mere thought of whom had set the child shud- 
296 


OYSTERS AND RED BALLOONS 


dering and who, it was now evident, had caused 
her painful nervousness at Saratoga. 

^Why don’t you say something?” demanded 
the man. ‘‘Are you dumb? You understand 
what you ’re to do ?” 

Nora nodded her head and muttered ^‘Yes,” in 
a muffled tone, so that he should not find out his 
mistake. 

'^You won’t get off so easy as you might have 
before,” the man went on. 'Tt isn’t only one 
letter this time, but any you can take without 
being seen. I ’ll arrange for you to get them to 
me, all right. Just hide them till I ask for them. 
The ones in the blue envelopes, you know.” 

‘‘And what if I won’t do it?” asked Nora. 

“You ’ll do it,” answered the man, in a menac- 
ing tone. “You know what happened long ago ?” 

“And must you have all the letters?” asked 
Nora softly, as if she were willing to give in. 

“Yes, until I find the one I want,” answered 
Hitchens. “Then you ’ll see the last of me. It 
might be the first but it might not be till you ’d 
given me a dozen.” 

297 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


''And then you 'll never bother me any more?" 
Nora questioned. 

"No, indeed ! I 'll be off to — well, you know 
whehe," he answered, with a glance about 
him. 

Nora hardly knew what course to take. She 
feared the man, and yet she had no intention of 
doing what he asked. She had no inkling of his 
authority for demanding such a service of Bebee, 
but it seemed certain that he had a hold over the 
child and she wanted very much to find out what 
it was. Only then could she be sure of protect- 
ing Bebee — and yet she was fearful of what the 
revelation might lead to. It might easily be that 
the solving of the mystery would bring about a 
separation, and to avoid this Nora stood ready to 
do almost anything. 

In her perplexity, and half-forgetting the 
stranger; she threw back her veil. It seemed as 
if she could n't breathe with it over her face. 

The effect of this was instantaneous. The 
man uttered a low cry and made a motion as if he 
298 


OYSTERS AND RED BALLOONS 


would run away, but checked himself and came 
nearer to Nora. 

‘'You Te the otheh one, I see,’^ he whispered. 
“Well, I Ve made a mistake — but I wouldn’t 
talk about it if I were you !” 

“I ’m not afraid of you,” retorted Nora. 
“You can’t harm me. But I won’t have you tor- 
menting Bebee the way you’re doing. She’s 
only a child, and — and — ” 

“And you love heh,” interrupted Hitchens. 
“Well, see that you don’t talk about what I ’ve 
just said to you or youh Bebee will be taken away 
from you.” 

By accident he had hit on the one threat that 
would move Nora most. 

“I ’ll promise not to say anything, if you will 
promise not to make Bebee steal my father’s let- 
ters for you,” replied Nora with as much assur- 
ance and dignity as she could assume, while her 
heart was beating suffocatingly and she was won- 
dering if he could carry out his threat. 

“I ’ll promise nothing!” the man retorted, “and 
299 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


what ’s mohe I 'll have those letters by hook or by 
crook. Go and tell your father if you want to, — 
but say good-by to youh precious pet before you 
do it !" and, with that, he turned on his heel and 
disappeared down the hall. 


300 


CHAPTER XXI 


A SPY IN THE ASTOR HOUSE 

N ORA’S first thought after her encounter 
with Mr. Hitchens was to go directly to 
her father, but the man’s threat might mean that 
he would reveal the whereabouts of those who 
had a claim upon Bebee and she had always 
feared that, in such a case, her father would say 
that they must surrender the child. This possi- 
bility speedily made her change her mind, and she 
went on to school as if nothing had happened. 

A few days later she saw the man again, hur- 
rying through the hotel lobby. She was sure he 
had seen her, but he gave no sign. Then she be- 
gan to notice that Bebee was more silent than 
usual and less inclined to leave their rooiiis. It 
was not hard to guess the reason since her own 
meeting with Mr. Hitchens. 

Meanwhile Mr. O’Neil came and went, busy 
301 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


with many important affairs and, constantly, 
blue envelopes made their appearance in his 
mail. 

One evening at supper Nora noticed that her 
father had a worn look as if he were doing too 
much, and later that night, when they were alone 
for a few moments, she spoke about it. 

''Daddy dear,’' she began softly, " 'T is a 
scolding I 'm goin’ to give you for working too 
hard, and you must stop it.” 

"Ah, well, me dear,” answered Mr. O’Neil, 
"I ’ll not be denyin’ I ’m tired. But it is n’t the 
work , me dear. It ’s worry that drags on a 
body.” 

"Aye, that ’s a true word you spoke,” agreed 
Nora, feelingly. "And what have ye to worry 
about?” demanded Mr. O’Neil, quick to note the 
earnestness in her voice. 

"Have n’t I you?'' she asked patting him on the 
cheek. 

"Oh, well, if ’t is that, ye need n’t be botherin’,” 
he assured her. " ’T will all be over with the 
election; but, as things are now, it fair drives a 
302 


A SPY IN THE ASTOR HOUSE 


body crazy to tell an honest man or woman these 
days. There ’s nothin’ safe from spies and in- 
triguers. What would ye think if Lwere to tell 
ye that me own mail was bein’ tampered with in 
this hotel ? And official letters stolen. Ah, ’t is 
not bein’ able to trust a livin’ soul that ’s wearin’ 
on me.’’ 

So much upset was Mr. O’Neil, and so in- 
tensely in earnest, that he failed to see that Nora 
had suddenly grown pale and was sitting straight 
on his knee, looking before her with wide open 
eyes. 

''Do you mean that your letters have been taken 
out of this room?” she asked in a tone of con- 
sternation. 

"Aye, ’t is the only thing left to believe,” an- 
swered Mr. O’Neil. "Mr. Stetson has been on 
the outlook for a week past, and ’t is not down- 
stairs they disappear. Some one gets them in 
here, and I ’m goin’ to find out who, be sure of 
that.” 

"Is it bad, stealin’ letters?” Nora asked, as she 
slipped from his knee. 


303 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
’T is a good long term in jail is the penalty/^ 
he answered sternly. 

'^But who would want to take them, Daddy?’’ 
she persisted. 

''Some Southern spy I ’m suspectin’,” he said 
thoughtfully, "and if it is, he’s in danger of 
bein’ hanged. Now good night, and God bless 
ye, me dear.” 

The next morning her father was as cheerful 
and full of jokes as usual. He made no refer- 
ence to the conversation he had had with her and, 
as Nora kissed him good-by before she went to 
school, she wondered if he had forgotten all about 
it. 

Later that day Mr. O’Neil sent word to them 
not to wait for him, so the two little girls had 
supper in the great dining-room with Mam’selle. 
In the midst of their meal Nora discovered that 
she had forgotten her handkerchief and at once 
excused herself. 

She ran upstairs, and was hurrying back 
through their parlor when she stopped abruptly, 
staring at the table. There, in plain sight, were 

304 


A SPY IN THE ASTOR HOUSE 

two of the blue envelopes that she knew so well to 
be official business of her father’s. 

For a moment she hesitated, then with a fur- 
tive look about her she picked them up, tucked 
them inside her Garibaldi blouse and hastened 
out. As she disappeared, the door of Mr. 
O’Neil’s room opened without noise, showing that 
it had been ajar and Mr. O’Neil himself appeared 
on the threshold. 

‘'Now what can be the meanin’ of that?” he 
said to himself. “Sure I never thought to catch 
Nonie in me trap.” 

He stood for a moment, meditating deeply, 
then he stepped back quickly and softly closed the 
door of his room behind him. 

Mr. O’Neil was not at all surprised when Nora 
handed him the letters next morning with the ex- 
planation that she had hidden them for safety. 

“We ’ll have no more bother with those blue 
letters anyhow,” he said. “I ’ve arranged to get 
them in such a way that no one can steal them.” 

“ ’T is best,” his daughter answered, suppress- 
ing a huge sigh of relief. “ ’T is uncomfortable 

305 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


to feel that there is some one about you who 
would be takin’ things that don’t belong to them.” 

She spoke quite calmly, striving with all her 
might to hide her deep concern, but something in 
her manner made Mr. O’Neil jump to the con- 
clusion that she suspected some one. He was 
tempted to question her, but it was plain that 
whoever it was she wished to protect them, so he 
changed his mind. What good would it do to 
pain Nora? Indeed there was little likelihood 
that the child had discovered anything of impor- 
tance where the secret service men were at a loss, 
so he determined to say no more about it, but in 
the future to take good care that there was noth- 
ing in his possession that would be any tempta- 
tion to spies. 

Nora was relieved by her father’s new arrange- 
ment about his letters, but it by no means quieted 
all of her fears, so long as the mysterious man 
was still to be seen about the hotel. 

The intense interest in the coming election, 
the vital consequences hanging on the choice of 
the next President, the news from the front, alter- 
306 


A SPY IN. THE ASTOR HOUSE 


nately good and bad, all these things kept the 
people in the city in a ferment; but the victories 
of Thomas, Sheridan, Farragut and Sherman 
during the summer and autumn had silenced 
those who declared that the war was a failure, 
and it seemed almost certain that President Lin- 
coln would be rejected. 

This prospect made the South desperate. 
Southern resources of all sorts were exhausted. 
Children and old men had been pressed into active 
service, and now when a man was lost there was 
no one to replace him. Dissension in the North 
was their only hope. 

Southern spies and agitators renewed their ac- 
tivity in the Northern States. Small riots oc- 
curred in various places, though none of such 
magnitude as those of the year before, for the 
police kept the people well in hand and the agi- 
tators made little headway. 

In all of the political work Mr. O’Neil played 
an active part, so that the girls saw little of him, 
though he would snatch an hour or so to be with 
them whenever the opportunity afforded. But 

307 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


he was away most of the day, and often of the 
night as well. 

One afternoon Nora was hurrying through the 
hallway to her room and as she turned a corner 
she ran plump into the hawk-faced man. 

‘‘You are the very young lady I was looking 
foh,’’ he murmured in an undertone. 

“What is it you want?'’ asked Nora, trying to 
control herself. 

“A small service," he answered politely, with a 
slight bow. 

Nora's first impulse was to tell him flatly that 
she would have nothing to do with him, but, upon 
second thought, she decided to hold her tongue, at 
least long enough to find out the man's purpose. 
There were no letters now that could be stolen, 
but it would be as well for her to hear him, so that 
she would have some idea of the demands he 
would make upon Bebee. 

“Tell me what it is you want?" she said, 
shortly. 

“As I told you, it 's a mighty small matteh," re- 
plied HitchenS;^ looking about him, and then, 
308 


A SPY IN THE ASTOR HOUSE 


drawing nearer to Nora, who held her ground 
against an almost overpowering instinct to fly 
from him, he dropped his voice to a whisper. 

"^All I ask you to do, is to take a candle to a 
certain room,'' he explained. ^The numbeh of 
the room will be marked on the package and I 
want a light left there. That is n't much, is it?" 

Nora looked at the man in astonishment. 

''Now where's the sense in that?" she de- 
manded. "Why shouldn't I light the gas? 
And who 'll be in the room — and — " 

"There 'll be no one there," the man cut in. 
"And never mind the gas. All you will have to 
do, is what I tell you. Light the candle and put 
it on the washstand. Then go away and shut 
the dooh after you." 

Nora puzzled her head in perplexity. She 
could see no reason in it, and, on the other hand, 
no harm either. The question then was, could 
she make a bargain with him. 

"I don't know why you ask me to do such a 
foolish thing," she said, "but you can't expect me 
to do it for nothing." 


309 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘What do you want?’' demanded Hitchens, 
none too gently. 

“You must promise never again to speak to 
Bebee,” she answered shortly. 

“Humm !” he muttered to himself. “Well, I ’ll 
promise never to speak to her again after you 've 
lighted that candle. That ’s faih, I reckon.” 

Nora’s heart leaped for joy at the thought, 
then came a reaction. 

“How can I trust you?” she faltered. 

“I don’t know as you can,” the man admitted, 
“but this I ’ll tell you in confidence. The night 
you light that candle I will leave New York City 
for good. Believe it or not as you please, it ’s 
a fact all the same.” 

There was something in the way he spoke that 
convinced Nora that he was telling the truth. 

“I ’ll do it,” she said, after a little pause, “but 
how can I get into the room ?” 

“It will be my room,” he answered, “and I ’ll 
send you the key. I can trust you not to disturb 
any of the things. You see, that ’s why I ’d 
rather you did it than one of the bellboys. They 
310 


A SPY IN THE ASTOR HOUSE 

might be curious and poke about. All you have 
to do is to light the candle, put it on the wash- 
stand and go away, locking the door after you. 
Then you can throw away the key and forget that 
you eveh saw me. In return I ^11 promise not to 
speak to you again, nor to the other child eitheh.’’ 

'T dl do it,’" repeated Nora. 

‘"And you ’ll not say anything about it to — 
to—” 

'T ’m not likely to brag about going into a 
strange person’s room,” replied Nora irritably. 

'^Ah, certainly not, certainly not,” and with a 
bow Mr. Hitchens left her. 

She looked after him for a moment, wonder- 
ingly. 

'T can’t see any sense in it,” she murmured, 
‘Tut I ’d do more than that to save Bebee.” 

This bargain at once put Nora at her ease in 
regard to Bebee. Perhaps the wish was father 
to the thought, but at any rate she believed that 
the man would hold to his agreement and not 
annoy the child further. As to her own share 
in the matter, she racked her brains to find some 

311 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

objection to it and could see none, though to be 
sure she found no explanation either as to why 
such a proceeding should be desired at all. How- 
ever, no wrong to any one was involved, and she 
began to hum to herself, lightened of a load that 
had kept her depressed for many a day. 

In this state of mind she ceased to keep a look- 
out for the man and had almost forgotten him, 
when one day, some weeks after Lincoln’s reelec- 
tion, she was startled on going into her room at 
dusk one evening, to strike a small package with 
her hand and send it rolling to the floor. 
Picking it up she found it was cylindrical in shape, 
roughly wrapped in grayish paper on which was 
written in red ink, ''Room 56 at 8:45 to-night.” 
There was nothing further, but she did n’t need 
to open the bundle to know what it contained. 

For the first time since the matter had been 
proposed to her, she began to feel frightened. 
The secret way in which the package had reached 
her was alarming and showed that some strange 
person came into their rooms without detection. 
And this knowledge brought the question, "Could 
312 


A SPY IN THE ASTOR HOUSE 

it have been some one else and not Bebee who took 
the letters?'^ 

Nora’s mouth felt dry and her hand shook as 
she lighted the gas, and the reflection of her face 
in the mirror looked as if she had been ill. 

‘T ’m silly,” she whispered, with a shake of her 
shoulders, that was almost a shiver. ^'Nothing 
can happen to me here in the Astor House.” 

She reasoned herself into a calmer state of 
mind, assured that the errand she was to under- 
take could not possibly be harmful to any one, 
and by supper-time she was as usual. 

After supper Mr. O’Neil left them to attend to 
some business, and she and Bebee went to their 
parlor to spend the evening together. Nora ex- 
pected that she would have to make some excuse 
at the appointed time, and she was distinctly re- 
lieved, when, at twenty minutes of nine, Bebee 
went out, saying that she was going down to the 
office for stamps. 

No sooner had the door closed than Nora 
jumped to her feet and hurried to her room. She 
hoped to be back from her strange errand before 

313 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


Bebee returned, and she picked up the package 
and opened it hastily. It contained a few sul- 
phur matches in addition to the piece of candle 
and the key, and so, fully equipped, after a final 
glance at the clock, she slipped out into the cor- 
ridor. 

Room Number 56 was on the same floor, and 
she ran through the halls quietly, wondering all 
the while what she should say if any one met her, 
but the passage was quite deserted and she fitted 
the key in the lock without hesitation, determined 
to be done with the matter as quickly as pos- 
sible. 

As she opened the door a peculiar odor filled 
her nostrils and she halted for an instant; then 
she went in bravely and lighted the candle. 

She cast a quick glance about the room in 
search of the washstand. The place looked very 
untidy, as if some one had left in a hurry but she 
took little note of this. Seeing the piece of furni- 
ture she was looking for on the opposite side of 
the room she crossed to it. 

‘‘He ’s been doing something to keep the moths 

314 


A SPY IN THE ASTOR HOUSE 


away/’ she murmured, as she sniffed the pungent 
odor that filled the air; then she leaned over the 
washstand to find a place to fix her candle-end. 

The basin and the soap-cup had been left par- 
tially filled and the whole top was dripping. 

‘^Sure he must have been here, just now,” Nora 
commented. ‘Why couldn’t he have done it 
himself? Well, it can’t do any harm,” with 
which reflection, she placed the lighted candle on 
a convenient spot and went out of the room, lock- 
ing the door behind her. 

‘T ’m glad that ’s over,” she thought, and ran 
along the corridor, intent upon getting back to 
her own parlor as quickly as she could. 

As she passed by a hallway intersecting the one 
she was in, Nora glanced down it, and then 
stopped short with a cry of pained surprise. 
Near the far corner Bebee was in the act of lock- 
ing the door of a room. 


CHAPTER XXII 

FIRE ! FIRE ! 

T here was something in Bebee’s furtive 
attitude that held Nora spellbound for a 
moment; then she saw the child straighten and 
start away at a rapid pace. 

With a dread of she knew not what, Nora hur- 
ried after her, but not wishing to attract atten- 
tion, she dared not call out. ^'What could the 
child be doing there?’’ she asked herself. ‘^Sure 
she ’s been on the same errand as meself, from 
the look of it,” was the answering thought. 

Bebee was seemingly intent upon gaining their 
own rooms but ere she reached the end of the long 
hall she quickened her pace and Nora saw, 
ascending the stairs ahead of them, the massive 
figure of the old washerwoman. 

For an instant Bebee hesitated, then she hur- 
ried forward in the wake of the old negress. 

316 


FIRE! FIRE! 

Nora hurried also, but before she reached the 
foot of the stairs Bebee was at the top, crouching 
down as if in fear of being seen. A moment 
later, however, she sprang up and raced on, far 
too intent upon what she was doing to look back. 
Nora, behind her, followed fast, but as she ar- 
rived at the upper landing another surprise 
awaited her. 

Bebee was following Mandy, Nora was fol- 
lowing Bebee, but it was perfectly evident that 
the darky washerwoman, too, was in pursuit of 
some one, for she was sneaking up the hall, very 
quietly for one of her great size, and seemed to 
be making for a door that stood ajar. 

Just as she reached it a man darted out. As he 
passed her the old darky woman made a grab at 
him. Silently he hit at her clutching hands and, 
evading her, made off rapidly in the direction of 
the back stairs. At the same moment a puff of 
smoke came curling out of the room he had left. 

The old negress without any hesitation rushed 
through the open door, out of which the smoke 
was coming in ever-increasing quantities. 

317 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

Bebee reached the entrance, with Nora scarce 
a pace behind her. 

'‘Bebee,'' she called. "Bebee, don't go in 
there!" The child stopped in surprise and Nora 
grasped her arm. 

"You are not to go in there," she insisted. 

"But, Nonie," cried Bebee with blazing eyes, 
"I must go in, she 'll be burned up and — " 

"I 'll go to her," answered Nora firmly. "You 
run to the office and get help. You can go 
faster than I. Waste no time. Go at once," 
and she gave the child a push away from the 
door. 

With a low moan of fear, Bebee looked at 
her for an instant as if about to protest and then 
tore down the stairs. 

Nora, as soon as she saw Bebee started, 
stepped inside the room. The dense smoke 
choked her and her eyes began to smart at once, 
but she went on bravely in spite of the smoth- 
ering atmosphere. 

"Mandy, where are you?" she called. 

"Hehe I is, honey," came the cheerful voice 
318 


FIRE! FIRE! 


of the old negress, but Nora could see nothing of 
her. She found the washstand, however, and 
intent upon putting the fire out, she picked up 
the water-pitcher meaning to empty it on the 
flames, but as she raised it the voice of Mandy 
came through the thickening smoke. 

''Don’t touch that pitcheh, honey,” she called, 
and just then a half dozen men came running 
into the room. 

It always remained a mystery to Nora how 
they had managed to get there so quickly, nor 
did she quite appreciate the appalling seriousness 
of a fire in a crowded hotel, but there they were 
and, for the moment, she cared little how they had 
come. 

Mr. Stetson, the manager, and Mr. Lewis, a 
telegraph operator, were among the number, with 
Bebee in their wake, and they took instant 
charge. There was a smashing of glass as the 
panes were broken in the window and a cool re- 
freshing breeze from outside soon cleared the 
room of smoke, revealing old Mandy plumped 
down in the middle of the floor on a pile of bed- 

319 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


ding, calm and serene as if nothing much had 
happened. 

At the direction of Mr. Stetson, two of the 
men seized her and pulled her to her feet, but 
as they did so a puff of smoke came up from the 
heap upon which she had been sitting. 

One of the men took the pitcher from Nora’s 
hand and was about to turn the contents upon 
the smoldering bedding. 

‘‘Don’ you put dat on the fiah, man!” cried 
Mammy, struggling with the two who held her. 

At that moment another man came running 
into the room. He was a clerk and was labor- 
ing under such excitement that he drew all eyes 
to him. 

“This is the plot the Secretary of War warned 
us about on Election Day,” he gasped. 

“What makes you think that?” asked Mr. Stet- 
son quickly. 

“We ’ve just received a report that the St. 
James Hotel is on fire, and so are the St. Nicho- 
las and La Farge House. Barnum’s is blazing 
and Wallack’s, too. It ’s a Southern plan to burn 
320 


FIRE! FIRE! 


the city, sir. Edwin Booth had to make a speech 
at the Winter Garden to keep the people from 
running out in a panic.’’ ^ 

There was an excited murmur and Mr. Stet- 
son’s face paled a little but he stepped to the door 
and closed it. 

‘‘Even if that is so,” he said with great calm- 
ness, which had the effect of bringing every one 
to their senses, “they have n’t burned the Astor 
House, and I see no reason for unduly alarming 
our guests. Two of you go and investigate 
all the vacant rooms, but say nothing to any 
one.” 

Attention was then directed to the bedding still 
smoldering on the floor. The breeze coming in 
through the broken windows had fanned it till 
now a flame or two again showed in its folds. 

^ Mr. Stetson’s clerk voiced the general belief, but was mistaken 
in reporting that Wallack’s Theater or the Winter Garden were 
burned. In the latter place of amusement, however, the smoke 
from the La Farge Hotel did cause a panic. In all, thirteen hotels, 
Barnum’s Museum, a large lumber-yard and many ships in the 
harbor were set on fire that night. It is pleasant to know that, 
in spite of the excitement in the Astor House, the morning news- 
papers brought the first news to the majority of the guests that 
three attempts were made to burn the building. — E. B. K. 

S2I 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


Once more the man with the pitcher raised it, 
and Mammy's agitated voice broke in, 

'‘Don't put none of dat on it, man !" she cried 
warningly. 

"Do you still want to get the best of us ?" the 
man answered, about to douse the contents of the 
pitcher on the flames. 

"Won't nobody stop that fool man?" cried 
Mammy, struggling in the grasp of her captors. 
"Ain't you-all got no noses? Can't you smell 
that it ain't water ? Don't throw it on the fiah or 
you 'll never be able to get it out." 

Mr. Stetson took the pitcher out of the man's 
hands. 

"It is spirits of turpentine," he said shortly. 
"Here, George," he went on, "go into the bath- 
room, and bring some water. Hurry now !" 

The fire was quickly extinguished and there 
being nothing more to be done, all eyes turned to 
the old woman still standing majestically with a 
guard on each side of her. 

"Shall we hand her over to the police?" asked 
one of them, addressing Mr. Stetson. 

322 


FIRE! FIRE! 


'What for?” he inquired, knitting his brows. 

"Why, sir,” answered the man in surprise. 
"Is n’t she one of them rebels’ darkies sent here 
to set the place afire?” 

"What makes you think that?” asked Mr. 
Stetson calmly. 

"Why it stands to reason the rebels must have 
some one to set their fires and they don’t count 
darkies — ” 

For a few moments Nora heard no more of the 
arguments about Mandy. At the words "some 
one must set their fires” her thoughts flew to her 
own share in the night’s mysterious work. That 
was what her candle was lighted for! She had 
been helping to set the hotel on fire. She must 
go and put it out. With a gasp as if she was 
short of breath she looked around her for a 
chance to escape. There were several men be- 
tween her and the door, and it seemed to her 
guilty conscience as if they must suspect her if 
they looked at her. But at that moment she 
heard a newcomer speak to Mr. Stetson.” 

"There ’s been another fire discovered in Num- 
3^3 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

ber 56, sir, but we Ve got it out. The room was 
actually afloat with turpentine.’’ 

‘'Keep up the search,” commanded Mr. Stet- 
son, “but do not arouse the guests.” 

Nora gave a sigh of relief, but her guilt was 
none the less real to her, even though no mis- 
chief had been done. 

Her attention came back to what was going on 
around her. 

“I can’t understand,” Mr. Stetson was saying 
to Mammy, “why, if you were coming for the 
O’Neil wash, you were on the third floor.” 

“Here’s the plain trufe, seh,” Mammy said 
with dignity. “I did n’t set no fiah. If you-all 
knows the ’xperience I ’ve had with fiahs you’ be 
mighty certain I ’d never set one a-purpose. But 
when I came upstaihs I see a man what I had seen 
befohe, and wheheveh he is, there ’s bound to be 
burnings. So whehe *he runs I run, and up he 
comes to this room. But he, bein’ quicker than 
me, he lights his fiah before I gets to him. I 
grab at him when he’s cornin’ out, but I can’t 
hold him. Then, they bein’ nothin’ else I can 
324 


FIRE! FIRE! 

do, I comes in and looks for somethin’ to throw 
on the fiah to smotheh it, like my ole master done 
tole me to do. But they ain’t nothin’, so I jes’ 
sits down on that fiah to squelch it. That ’s the 
truth, seh, the gospel truth.” ^ 

'Tt seems hardly possible,” said Mr. Stetson, 
after a moment’s thought. ‘T think we shall 
have to make a further investigation of the mat- 
ter. I hope what you say is true, but there is no 
one to answer for you, and it is too serious an 
affair to treat lightly. I fear I must put you 
into the hands of the police.” 

With a cry of dismay Bebee sprang forward 
in front of the old negro woman and faced the 
men with flashing eyes. 

‘The police shan’t have her,” she said, between 
her clenched teeth. “They shan’t have her. I ’ll 

1 It was reported that a woman went from hotel to hotel that 
night and after each visit fire was discovered. This may have 
resulted from some distorted rumor concerning old Mammy’s 
share in the events that transpired at the Astor House. A man 
named Kennedy confessed, before he was executed, that the at- 
tempt to burn New York was made in retaliation for Sheridan’s 
raid through the Shenandoah Valley. — E. B. K. 

325 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

answer for her. She ’s my mammy, my very 
own mammy, she belongs to me, and I know she 
did n’t set fire to the room !” 

As she spoke her eyes strayed to Nora, and for 
a moment they faltered, but she held her head 
high and did no flinch. 

This revelation brought Nora’s thoughts tum- 
bling about in her head chaotically. The old 
negress was, after all, the missing mammy and 
Bebee had known it all the time, of course. 
What did it mean? Nora felt that the dreaded 
revelation about Bebee’s past was bound to come 
now ; but, none the less, instinctively she immedi- 
ately tried to find a way to prevent it. If she 
could get the old woman off, perhaps that would 
settle the matter; at any rate it was her duty to 
tell Mr. Stetson that Mandy was innocent and she 
stepped forward to speak to him. 

‘T saw a man run out of the room, Mr. Stet- 
son,” she said, tremblingly. ‘‘Mandy did try to 
stop him, as she says. I ’m sure she ’s inno- 
cent.” 

Mr. Stetson looked at her in surprise. 

326 


FIRE! FIRE! 

‘Were you on this floor, too, Miss Nora?'^ he 
asked. 

''Oh, yes,’’ answered Nora. "I followed Be- 
bee.” 

"And what was she doing here?” asked Mr. 
Stetson. 

"She was following Mandy.” 

"And why were either of you girls in the 
halls?” was the next question. 

Nora could not answer. She looked blankly 
at Mr. Stetson and the quiet in the room seemed 
appalling. She gazed about her only to meet the 
inquisitive eyes of the men who stood silently 
waiting for her answer, but she could say noth- 
ing. The whole story would surely come out 
and she would lose Bebee. Her heart sank, the 
tears came into her eyes and she gave an involun- 
tary cry of sorrow. 

"Oh, Daddy! Where ’s my Daddy?” and as if 
in answer Mr. O’Neil hobbled into the room. 

He had no idea what the trouble was, but 
seeing Nora in an attitude of despair, he went 
to her and took her in his arms. 

327 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

‘What is it, Nonie, me darlin’?'' he whispered. 
“Here 's your daddy and nothin’ shall harm ye. 
What is it? Tell Daddy.” 

“I can’t tell you here,” she answered. “I must 
talk to you alone. Take me to our rooms.” 

Mr. Stetson explained the situation in a few 
words, and Mr. O’Neil, not a little mystified, sug- 
gested that the old negress should be taken to 
the office till he had heard what Nora had to say. 
This was done, but, when Nora asked Bebee to 
come with her, the child shook her head. 

“Not till Mammy ’s freed, Nonie,” she an- 
swered in a sad little voice. “I must stay with 
her till then,” and she went to the office also. 

In their own room, Nora made her confession 
to her father. She held nothing back but poured 
out into his sympathetic ears the whole of the 
story and her fear of losing Bebee. She told it 
plainly, hiding nothing, nor did she attempt to 
excuse herself in any way. In fact, her one 
thought was to shield Bebee, and Mr. O’Neil 
needed no explanation to give him the motive un- 
derlying all. 


328 


FIRE! FIRE! 


‘‘And now you see, Daddy,” she sobbed at the 
end, “poor old Mandy didn’t have anything to 
do with it, and you must tell Mr. Stetson to let 
her go, so that I can have Bebee back again. 
And, Daddy, you won’t let them take her from 
me?” 

Mr. O’Neil got to his feet with a deep sigh. 

“Nonie darlin’,” he said to her, “ye must trust 
your old daddy to do all he can to keep Bebee; 
but, dear, who can tell what may be back of this? 
If it ’s money that ’s needed — say, I ’ll buy off 
anybody!” This idea appealed to him strongly 
as it suddenly popped into his head. “That’s 
what we can do, me dear. We ’ll buy up the 
claims for her, if we have to,” and with a kiss he 
left her. 

Outside the door Mr. O’Neil walked slowly and 
thoughtfully. As Nora had told the story it had 
seemed certain that Bebee’s history must come 
out, and that they would lose her. But this new 
plan appeared more possible the more he thought 
of it. 

The shadowy man in the background was the 

329 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


key to the situation. Undoubtedly he had some 
strong hold upon the child, and Mr. O’Neil specu- 
lated upon what this influence might be. 

Suddenly he came to a stop with an ejacula- 
tion of surprise. 

''Sure, ’t is her father he muttered under his 
breath. "I might have known it.” 

He went over in his mind the evidence that 
tended to support this belief and made out a 
strong case for the supposition. First of all, 
Bebee came from the South somewhere, and her 
father, naturally, would be a rebel sympathizer. 
What more reasonable then than to believe him 
to be a spy who was using her to help in his 
work? Otherwise why had Bebee’s parents not 
made some claim for her ? More than a year had 
passed, yet nothing had been heard from them. 
Surely the best explanation yet found for this 
was that they knew all the time where she was, 
and had a purpose in keeping quiet. The old 
darky woman was, of course, concerned in the 
matter. How far Mr. O’Neil did n’t trouble to 
speculate, but she, too, was in the background, 

330 


FIRE! FIRE! 


and her coming to do the wash was all part of 
the scheme so that she could serve as the go- 
between for Bebee and the spy. 

‘'Sure it is her father!’’ he muttered again, 
positively. “And him I ’ll buy. A fella like that 
will think a lot of money. ’T will be all right 
for Nonie, God bless her.” 

He walked on briskly now. He would tell Mr. 
Stetson enough of the circumstances to show him 
that the negress had no hand in setting the room 
on fire, and then he would force the facts out 
of her before he began his negotiations leading 
to a legal adoption of Bebee, who, he felt certain, 
had been an unwilling victim throughout. That 
was what he intended to do and he was quite 
ready to spend any amount of money to accom- 
plish it. 

He reached the bottom of the stairs and was 
crossing the lobby toward the door of Mr. Stet- 
son’s office when that gentleman came out hur- 
riedly. 

“Oh, here you are, Mr. O’Neil,” he said, ad- 
vancing toward his guest. “They ’ve brought a 

331 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


letter for you into my office thinking you were 
there, I suppose. It is marked ‘Personal and 
Important,’ and was sent by messenger from the 
steamer. I was about to send it up,” and he 
handed Mr. O’Neil a letter which said: 


My dear Mr. O’Neil: 

Mrs. Cochrane recognizes the chain. The child must 
be Patricia. Keep her till I come. Am sending this by a 
person who has undertaken to see that it reaches you 
without delay, and will sail for America on the next 
steamer. In great haste. 

R. Castleton. 


Mr. O’Neil looked dumbly at the paper in his 
hands. 

“Mrs. Cochrane is Miss Eileen,” he thought 
slowly, “and R. Castleton is Lady Castleton — 
and the child is Bebee !” 

In a moment all his speculations had been shat- 
tered. All his fine plans for Nora’s happiness 
swept away. 


332 


FIRE! FIRE! 


‘‘Sure I can’t buy off Miss Eileen and Lady 
Castleton,” he muttered to himself, then after a 
long pause he murmured, 'Toor Nonie. Poor 
little Nonie!” 


333 


CHAPTER XXIII 

A CHAIN OF CIRCUMSTANCES 

M r. O’NEIL had no trouble in freeing the 
old negress, though just what he said to 
Mr. Stetson he never quite remembered. He 
was so upset by the letter from Lady Cas- 
tleton and so wholly occupied with the conse- 
quences that would result from this discovery 
that he but half realized what went on about him. 

However, old Mammy was released and Bebee 
ran upstairs to Nora as fast as she could, while 
Mr. O’Neil sat in Mr. Stetson’s office talking 
over the fires. 

The two girls flung their arms about each other 
when they met. 

‘‘Oh, Nonie, do you still love me?” cried Be- 
b&, tears running down her cheeks. 

“Oh, me dear Bebee, and why should n’t I ?” 
334 


A CHAIN OF CIRCUMSTANCES 

sobbed Nora, taking the child in her lap, though 
in truth Bebee was nearly as large as she. 

‘'But you know I Ve been cheating you,” Be- 
bee murmured mournfully. "Of course I knew 
it was Mammy all the time; but — but, Nonie 
dear, I could n't tell you. I was afraid.” 

" 'T is all right if you don't have to leave me,” 
Nora assured her, patting her shoulder lov- 
ingly. 

"You are so good to me, and I love you, Nonie, 
with all my heart,” Bebee sobbed. "I was 
afraid you would tell me to go away, and never 
look at me again.” 

"I never want you to go away, dearie,” Nora 
answered, and then, for a minute or two they 
clasped each other as tightly as they could and 
cried in each other's arms. 

Suddenly Nora bethought herself of Bebee's 
action in the hall just before the fire was dis- 
covered by Mammy. 

"Bebee dear,” she whispered. "Did you have 
a candle too?” 

"Yes,” sobbed Bebee. 

335 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

'Then you must go and put it out/' Nora said, 
hurriedly. 

'T did n’t light it,” Bebee answered, sitting up 
and wiping her face. 'T knew at once what he 
wanted to do when I went into the room. I ’ve 
smelt stuff like that before. Oh, Nonie, will it 
ever stop? Always, wherever we go, there is a 
fire sooner or later, and that ’s why I knew what 
would happen when I smelt that smell.” Then, 
a new thought coming to her, she looked at Nora 
in amazement. "But, Nonie, how did you know 
about the candle?” 

"Because I had one,” Nora answered. "It was 
my candle that set fire to room number 56.” 

"And do you have to work for him, too?” Be- 
bee asked, aghast. "Poor Nonie,” she added, "I 
am so sorry,” and she leaned forward and kissed 
Nora lovingly. 

"I did n’t have to do it,” Nora explained, "but 
he took me for you one day, and he promised he 
would never bother you again if I lit the candle. 
And I could n’t see what harm it would do.” 

"Then you don’t know him?” asked Bebee. 

336 


A CHAIN OF CIRCUMSTANCES 

''No, except that I Ve seen him and that I knew 
you were afraid of him,” Nora answered. "Who 
is he, dear ?” she added. 

Bebee looked at Nora with a pitiable expression 
of pain and fear on her face. 

"Don’t ask me, Nonie,” she pleaded, "I 
could n’t tell you even if I wanted to.” 

She was so pathetic in her distress that Nora 
forgot everything but her desire to comfort her. 

"Don’t worry any more about it, dear,” she 
murmured, drawing Bebee close to her and press- 
ing her head down on her shoulder. "Let ’s for- 
get all about this dreadful night and go to bed. 
Come,” and she led Bebee into the bedroom. 

It was a long time before they went to sleep. 
They lay in each other’s arms, whispering to- 
gether and going over and over again the events 
that had just passed; but Nora, though she would 
have given almost anything to know more of 
Bebee’s relations with the strange man, held her 
tongue on that subject. She expected that morn- 
ing would bring a full explanation, but she dared 
not let her mind dwell upon the outcome, and 
337 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


soothed her anxieties with the thought that Mr. 
O^Neil had said he would buy off all claims to 
the child. 

‘‘You are still my Bebee/' she whispered, as 
they kissed each other good night for the last 
time. 

“And I love you, Nonie, with all my heart,’’ 
answered Bebee. 

Meanwhile Mr. O’Neil and Mr. Stetson were 
also discussing the mysterious Mr. Htt^ens. 

“Me daughter says she saw him a number of 
times in the hotel,” Mr. O’Neil remarked. 

Mr. Stetson thought a minute and then, send- 
ing for a clerk, put some questions to him. 

“The man in number 56 registered in the hotel 
under the name of Hitchens,” Mr. Stetson said 
after this interview. “When he first came here 
we inquired his business and he said he was an 
agent of yours.” 

“Of mine!” cried Mr. O’Neil in astonishment. 
Mr. Stetson nodded. 

“We knew, of course, Mr. O’Neil, that you 
had many dealings with the government ; and this 
338 


A CHAIN OF CIRCUMSTANCES 

fellow said it must not be known that there was 
any connection between you. The relation was 
to be kept secret. This did not seem altogether 
unreasonable. In fact, we thought it quite likely 
you would need such an agent near you. For 
the first two or three days we had him watched 
pretty carefully, and I was a little surprised that 
you didn’t speak of him to me. However, he 
was seen quite often talking to little Bebee and 
also to *your daughter. Then, too, he was ob- 
served to go to your rooms and enter without 
knocking, so that we were entirely satisfied things 
were as he said. Evidently the man was a South- 
ern spy.” 

^Well, that beats all!” exclaimed Mr. O’Neil. 
‘^He was stealin’ official letters when he came 
to my parlor, and when he talked to the girls he 
was doin’ his best to intimidate ’em. Ah, bad 
cess to a fella like that ! I ’d love to have me 
hands on him, but ’t is n’t likely now. The city 
will be too hot for the likes of him after to-day. 
The poor children! Think of him playin’ on 
’em that way. It rouses all the Irish in me.” 

339 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


'What I can’t understand/’ said Mr. Stetson, 
"is why the girls didn’t say something about 
him?” 

"There’s reasons for that, too,” said Mr. 
O’Neil and this set him wondering once more 
over the cable message from Lady Castleton. 

In truth Mr. O’Neil had thought of little else 
since the message came, and the more he dwelt on 
it the more he was convinced that Lady Castle- 
ton’s surmise was correct. The fact that the 
chain which had been around Bebee’s neck had 
belonged to the missing child was well-nigh con- 
clusive. But there were many other circum- 
stances that pointed in the same direction, now 
that his attention had been called to the possi- 
bility. 

First of all, she had come from the South. 
Well, Dennis Burke, the man with whom Patricia 
Cochrane was left by' her father, lived in Geor- 
gia. Then there was the coat of arms. He had 
pooh-poohed the matter when Nora said Bebee 
thought she had seen it before, but it was 
probably on things belonging to her mother that 
340 


A CHAIN OF CIRCUMSTANCES 
she had seen it. It was a small matter, but 
straws show the way the wind blows. And, 
more than all else, there was the absence of any 
inquiry or hint of a search being made for the 
child. 

Nor was this theory in conflict with the other 
that Bebee’s father was the mysterious man who 
had been trying to burn the hotel and steal his 
letters. Lady Castleton had said the fellow was 
worthless. He was likely to have a dozen names, 
Hitchens as well as Cochrane, which would go 
far to explain Bebee’s refusal to acknowledge a 
family name. The poor child probably didn't 
know what she would be called next. And what 
was more reasonable than to believe that when 
Cochrane had discovered with whom his daughter 
was living in New York he had been too weak to 
resist the temptation to make use of her. Mr. 
O'Neil was willing to acquit the man of deliber- 
ately sending the child on such an errand and ex- 
posing her to such risks. But having left her 
with Dennis Burke in Georgia, and coming sud- 
denly upon her here in New York, it was 

341 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
not improbable that the rascal had taken quick 
advantage of the situation. 

How the child came North was as yet a mys- 
tery, but there seemed no doubt that Bebee was 
Patricia Cochrane. And it was amazing to Mr. 
O’Neil that while he and many others in his em- 
ploy, had been searching the country over for 
the child, the little girl was living in his own 
home. It was almost too romantic, and Mr. 
O’Neil shook his head frequently, as he thrashed 
the matter over. 

Through all his thoughts what troubled him 
most was the dread of what would happen when 
he broke the news to Nora. 

^Toor little Nonie !” he murmured over and 
over again, knowing that sooner or later he must 
cause her deep sorrow. It was n’t a matter of 
money any more. Had it been, he would have 
given all he had without a pang to have kept the 
child. They could have been happy even though 
they were poor. But that was out of the ques- 
tion now. He had a very tender recollection of 
the Miss Eileen of his boyhood days, indeed the 
342 


A CHAIN OF CIRCUMSTANCES 

only ray of sunshine in the gloom ahead of him 
was the remembrance that she would be made 
happy. 

'‘But Nonie, poor little Nonie!'^ how would she 
bear it? What would she do without this little 
girl who had come so strangely into her life and 
gained such a large place in her affections? 

" ’T will break Nonie's heart/’ he muttered to 
himself, "and I ’ll be grievin’ for her, too,” he 
added, realizing suddenly how much he would 
miss Bebee’s childish voice calling, "Uncle Tim.” 

"But still we might be mistaken,” he said to 
himself, although he had given up all such hopes. 
"Before I tell Nonie ’tis best to make certain. 
At any rate I ’ll tax the child with it before I say 
a word.” 

This much determined, Mr. O’Neil only waited 
to make assurance doubly sure until he and Bebee 
were alone together. He thought many times 
over just how he should put his questions to 
her. He wanted to surprise her if possible, for 
he realized she would not have kept silent so long 
and avoided all hints of her past without special 
343 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


reasons. On the other hand, he did not wish to 
shock her nor hurt her in any way, so after a 
good deal of arguing with himself back and 
forth, he decided that he would ask her some- 
thing about this Dennis Burke with whom, ac- 
cording to Lady Castleton, she had been living. 
That would be sufficiently surprising to cause her 
to betray herself, while if he spoke her father’s 
name, or called her 'Tatricia Cochrane” to her 
face the shock might be too hard on the child. 
Mr. O’Neil did not disguise from himself the fact 
that he, as well as Nonie, loved Bebee, and his 
task was far from pleasant to his tender heart. 

The opportunity came the next day. Nora 
was out of the room and Bebee was busy writing 
at the table near him. 

Mr. O’Neil was in his favorite chair and, after 
much hesitation, he screwed his courage up to 
the point of speaking to her. He would have 
given anything to avoid it, but that seemed im- 
possible. 

‘‘Beb&, me dear,” he said gently, ‘^come over 
here. I want to talk to you a minute.” 

344 


A CHAIN OF CIRCUMSTANCES 

‘‘Yes, Uncle Tim,’" she answered brightly, and 
laying down her pencil she went to him with a 
smile of pleasure. 

He took her by the arms and drew her between 
his knees. 

“Bebee,’’ he began in his gentlest voice, “I Ve 
been wonderin’ lately if you could tell me aught 
of a Mr. Dennis Burke of Georgia?” 

As he said the name Bebee grew white and 
shrank back, with wide staring eyes of fear and 
apprehension. It seemed a long time to Mr. 
O’Neil that she stood rigid, gazing at him. Then 
suddenly she put her hands over her face and 
broke into passionate weeping. 

“Then you know ? You know ?” she burst out. 

“Yes, me dear, I know,” answered Mr. O’Neil, 
and reached out to take her in his arms, but she 
pulled herself away and rushed out of the room, 
crying bitterly. 


345 


CHAPTER XXIV 

BEBEE DISAPPEARS 

M r. O’NEIL did not know how long he sat 
staring at the fire after Bebee left him. 
Her pale, drawn little face stayed in his memory 
and made him very unhappy. The thought that 
he had been the cause of her distress affected 
him deeply, although he told himself again and 
again that he could not have foreseen the result. 
Mr. O’Neil was a kindly man who would not 
have hurt any one intentionally, much less a child, 
and least of all Bebee whom he had come to love 
dearly. 

But of one thing there remained no doubt in 
his mind. Why she was so much concerned over 
the mere mention of Dennis Burke he could not 
explain; but it was perfectly plain that she knew 
him, and therefore it became a certainty that Lady 
346 


BEBEE DISAPPEARS 

Castleton was correct in her surmise that Bebee 
was the missing child. 

It was a sad business for Mr. O’Neil but the 
worst was still before him. He had to tell Nora 
that she must prepare herself, sooner or later, 
to say good-by to Bebee. 

He was brought back to his surroundings by 
hearing a door open and then the voice of Nora 
calling. 

^'Daddy !” she exclaimed, coming quickly across 
the room to him, '"what is the matter with Be- 
bee? She is lying on the bed sobbing and cry- 
ing, and I cannot comfort her. Won’t you come 
in and — ” but she stopped, seeing in her father’s 
face something that made her heart give a jump 
of apprehension. 

'What is it, Daddy?” she half whispered, com- 
ing closer to him. 

"Here, darlin’,” he said, holding out his arms 
to her. "Me heart is sore for what I have to tell 
ye.” 

Nora let herself be settled in his lap without a 
word, all the while looking searchingly into her 
347 • 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


father’s face as if trying to read there some lit- 
tle hope. She guessed what was coming. The 
hour which she had been dreading had arrived. 
She felt a little numb as she sat and waited for 
the words that were to rend her heart. 

‘"Ye guess what ’t is about, dear,” Mr. O’Neil 
began, scarcely knowing how to break the news 
to her. 

‘'Yes, Daddy,” she answered. 

"Well, ’tis good news for her, anyway, and 
that you ’ll be glad of,” he went on. "Do ye 
mind the little chain she had around her neck? 
The one ye slipped the ring on the night of the 
riots? A little gold chain ye said it was. Do 
ye mind? I never saw it.” 

"Yes, Daddy,” she repeated. 

"Well, what do ye think has happened?” he 
went on, falteringly. "Sure ye could never 
guess. Nobody could, but, oh, Nonie darlin’, ’t is 
that little chain has found Bebee her mother.” 

"Who is she?” asked Nora, with unexpected 
interest. 

" ’T is my Miss Eileen,” he answered. "Lady 
348 


BEBEE DISAPPEARS 

Castleton's niece, ye mind. I ’ve a message from 
her sayin’ she is cornin'.” 

Nora did not move for some moments; then 
her eyes filled with great tears that rolled down 
her cheeks unheeded. 

'‘Ah, Daddy,” she sobbed, "ye can't buy her off, 
can ye ?” 

"Me darlin' !” cried Mr. O'Neil, the tears com- 
ing into his own eyes, "if money would do it 
they might have every penny I have in the world. 
'T would be no hardship for your old father to 
get to work again, with a pick and shovel if 
need be, to make ye happy. Oh, Nonie, Nonie, 
if your poor mother was only here to comfort ye ! 
A man's but poor consolation in times like 
this.” 

Nora lifted herself suddenly and put her hands 
on her father's face, looking at him with brim- 
ming eyes. 

"Don't say that. Daddy!” she exclaimed and all 
her heart was in the words. "There is no fa- 
ther like ye in all the world and I love you enough 
for both father and mother. 'T is me that knows 


349 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

your heart aches, and sure ’t is an ungrateful girl 
I am with all the things ye give me and all ye do 
for me, to cry for what I can’t have. But oh, 
Daddy, I do love her so, and— and you love her 
too, don’t ye. Daddy?” 

“Aye,” he answered, with a catch in his throat, 
“I do that ! ’T will be mighty lonesome not 
bearin’ the little thing callin’ ‘Uncle Tim.’ ” 

“Won’t it?” Nora murmured through her tears. 
“ ’T is that will be the hardest to bear, not havin’ 
her here to care for. Oh, Daddy, Daddy!” 

She buried her head against his shoulder and 
burst into a fresh fit of sobbing while Mr. O’Neil 
tried his best to comfort her with gentle pats of 
sympathy. 

The light had gone and the room was nearly 
dark. The small fire burning in the grate glowed 
cheerfully and illuminated the chair and its oc- 
cupants dimly. Nora, controlling her sobs after 
a time, lay quietly, as if her emotion had left 
her without any desire to move. Mr. O’Neil sat 
holding her tightly, seeking in vain to find a way 
to console her. Except for the low rumble of 

350 


BEBEE DISAPPEARS 


the traffic outside coming to them in a muffied 
hum the room was silent. 

Suddenly Nora straightened up. 

"'Daddy/’ she said loudly, "why should Bebee 
be crying so, and why should she seem afraid?” 

" ’T is a thing I ’ve been puzzlin’ me head 
over,” her father answered, "and there ’s but one 
reason for it that I can see, though I ’d made up 
me mind that ’twas her own father was settin’ 
her on to do his dirty work. The man that ’s tor- 
mented her and you must be Dennis Burke, 
though he calls himself Hitchens. She ’s afraid 
we ’ll turn her over to him I misdoubt.” 

"Oh, the poor lamb,” cried Nora, getting to 
her feet. "Sure you ’ve hit it. Daddy, and I ’ve 
been lettin’ her stay in there all alone, and she 
fearin’ for her life, maybe. Poor Beb&, poor lit- 
tle Bebee!” She was at the door of their bed- 
room ere she finished, and Mr. O’Neil heard her 
call the child’s name as she entered. 

The door stood open and the sudden glow in 
the room showed Mr. O’Neil that she had lighted 
the gas. He sat quietly, picturing to himself the 

351 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
two little girls in each other’s arms, his own Nora 
playing the mother and, in spite of the pain in 
her own heart, doing the best she could to ease 
the fear and anguish of her cherished friend. 

Suddenly a cry rang out that brought him to 
his feet in an instant. 

''Oh, Daddy, Daddy, come to me!” And he 
hurried as fast as his lame leg would let him, 
into the adjoining room. 

"What is it, dearie?” he called as he ran. 

He found Nora crumpled up on the floor in 
front of the bureau and, as he hastened to her, 
she held up a coarse piece of wrapping-paper on 
which he could see that something was written. 
He fumbled about for his glasses, a little fearful 
of what was coming, and, after adjusting them, 
he read the following note: — 

‘"Dearest Nonie, please give my love to Uncle Tim and 
tell him I have gone away. I think he would not like 
to send me away so I am going myself. I have a lot 
of money he gave me and I am wearing my thick coat 
and rubber shoes so as not to worry you. Please excuse 
this paper. It is all I can find now. Your loving Bebee. 

352 


BEBEE DISAPPEARS 

‘T.S. Nonie, I shall always love you and I have tot 
you all the English I know. Good-by and thank you 
and Uncle Tim for being so good to me. I think this is 
a very cruel world.” 

Mr. O’Neil finished the pathetic little note with 
difficulty. A mist would come before his eyes 
as he read between the lines, but at length he 
reached the end and stooping down he lifted his 
daughter to her feet. 

‘'Don’t grieve, dearie,” he said, with all the 
confidence he could put into the words. ‘T ’ll 
have her back in no time. The poor baby is un- 
der some misapprehension. Come and help your 
daddy to find her.” 

At the thought that there was something to be 
done, Nora roused herself and controlled her 
sobbing. 

“We must hurry. Daddy,” she cried, and she 
ran into the other room and pulled at the bell- 
rope to summon one of the hotel boys. 

But Mr. O’Neil did not wait. He hastened to 
the office to make inquiries in person and to set 
353 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
in motion the machinery for finding the child 
speedily. 

It was plain that she had quitted the bedroom 
by the door leading directly into the hall, but 
where she had gone then remained a mystery. 
The hope that some of the hotel employees would 
have noticed her was doomed to be disappointed, 
for she had not been seen to leave the Astor 
House; and, once on the street, the fast-gathering 
darkness of the short autumn day had probably 
hidden her from chance observers. 

Mr. Stetson responded heartily to Mr. O^Neil’s 
appeal for help, but absolutely nothing resulted 
from their inquiries within the hotel. 

It then became a matter for special detectives 
and the police, and orders were issued to search 
the town while, at the same time, at Nora’s sug- 
gestion, a hunt was made for the old mammy, or 
Mandy Mandlebaum as she called herself. 

This was really a practical plan and proved 
to be a correct surmise as to where Bebee had 
gone, but when they came to inquire just where 
the old negress lived, it was found that neither 
354 


BEBEE DISAPPEARS 


Nora nor Mr. O’Neil knew. All they could tell 
was that she roomed with a Mrs. Mandlebaum 
somewhere uptown. 

With only this clue much precious time was 
lost, and it was not until the evening of the next 
day that the place was located. Then the in- 
formation gathered there showed that they were 
too late. 

A little girl had come there the previous night 
looking for the old negress and, after they had 
talked together for an hour or so. Mammy had 
paid Mrs. Mandlebaum what she owed her and 
the two had departed with all the old woman’s 
possessions done up in a bundle. 

’s just ’cided I ’d betta be movin’ into largeh 
quarters, ma’am,” was all the information 
Mammy had vouchsafed, and then they had gone 
out into the darkness and disappeared. 

The next few days passed most dismally for 
Mr. O’Neil and Nora. It was bad enough for 
her to have to give Bebee up to Lady Castleton, 
but this uncertainty as to where the child was or 
what might have befallen her was much worse. 

355 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
Nora was the constant prey of her imagination 
and she wore herself out with apprehension. 

Mr. O'Neil, of course, did his best to cheer her 
and encourage a belief that sooner or later Bebee 
would be brought back. 

‘Tt just can't be that we won't find her," he 
repeated continually, till at last Nora, nervous, 
and hardly herself, answered fretfully: 

‘'You 're a poor one at findin' people. Daddy. 
Now, if only Johnny Clancy was here, he 'd — " 

“We 'll have him," answered Mr. O'Neil and 
forthwith sent off a telegram to his boarding- 
school commanding that young man's presence at 
once. 

Johnny came, glad of the freedom, and putting 
on the oldest suit of clothes he had, went out into 
the street a newsboy once more, confident that he 
would find the missing child. 

Mr. O'Neil neglected all his business and de- 
voted himself to Nora. For hours she would sit 
beside him, staring straight ahead of her but lis- 
tening all the while for footsteps coming toward 
their door, hoping against hope that a favorable 

35b 


BEBEE DISAPPEARS 
report would be brought to them. At each knock 
on the door she would sit straight and rigid, her 
eyes fastened on the face of the messenger, every 
muscle in her body tense with anxiety. 

‘Well, what news?’’ Mr. O’Neil would demand, 
when one of the men he had employed, or a 
police officer entered. “What news? What 
news?” His question was rough and irritable, 
for he, too, was feeling the strain of waiting. 

And the reply was always ,a fresh disappoint- 
ment. There was no trace of the child or the 
old negro woman after they had left Mrs. Man- 
dlebaum’s house. 

Mr. O’Neil would tell the man to go on with 
the search, and when the door closed he and Nora 
would settle back again with a sigh to their end- 
less, nerve-racking waiting. 

When they talked it was always of Bebee. 

“Do ye mind the cunnin’ ways she had of tellin’ 
us our mistakes in English, Daddy?” Nora would 
ask softly, almost as if she were thinking out 
loud. 

“Aye, that I do,” he would reply. “She was a 
357 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
great hand at the English, though at times I 
didn’t catch her meanin’.” 

‘We must try to be thinkin’ of those things, 
Daddy — I mean papa,” Nora murmured. ‘We 
must be tryin’ to speak the way she ’d want us 
to. Seems kind of mean not to, when her back ’s 
turned, as ye might say.” 

“Aye ! Aye !” answered Mr. O’Neil with a great 
sigh. “But ’t is the merry laugh of her T ’m 
missin’. ’T was like a baby’s, it was that inno- 
cent.” 

“She loved you, Daddy — I mean — ^but how can 
I think of words when me heart is achin’ for the 
sight of her?” and Nora would hide her face and 
let the tears come. 

They became more and more hopeless as days 
passed without trace of the fugitives. Johnny 
Clancy had no luck at all, and though he always 
insisted that he would find her “that day,” he 
would come in at night shaking his head, till 
finally Nora said he was no better at “findin’ peo- 
ple” than her father, and Johnny was sent back 
to school. 


358 


BEBEE DISAPPEARS 
And all the while the ship that Lady Castle- 
ton was on, was nearing port and Mr. O'Neil 
began to worry on her account also. 

‘‘ 'T is a queer thing that now we know who 
she is, we must go and lose her. 1 don't know 
what I 'll be sayin’ to Lady Castleton when she 
comes in askin' for her grandniece. And maybe 
Miss Eileen will be with her, beggin' Tim O'Neil 
for her child, and he not able to give it." 

'T is very queer," Nora would agree, ‘'and 
you with all your detectives and spies lookin' for 
her, and she sittin' here the while callin' out 
‘Uncle Tim,' in the cute way she had." 

“Why, there 's men down South, searchin' for 
the child this minute!" Mr. O'Neil answered. 
“I 've had them all through the country, goin' 
where they could without meeting up with the 
armies. There 's many a one down there now I 
could n't find to stop if I wanted to. 'T is like a 
miracle when I think of it, and her gone." 

At the end of a week Nora seemed to give up 
all hope that Bebee would ever return and began 
to speak of the child as if she were dead. This 
359 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


distressed Mr. O’Neil mightily, and he tried his 
best to counteract the idea but with little success. 
One day, however, as they were sitting together, 
a thought came into his mind. 

‘‘Nonie dear,” he said, '^do ye mind the for- 
tune-tellin’ we had with the tea that day a long 
while back?” 

‘*Yes, Daddy, ’t was old Mammy that told it,” 
she answered, showing an immediate interest. 

''And do ye mind me tryin’ to separate the two 
tea leaves,” he went on. "How I stirred the tea 
and — ” 

"Oh !” Nora cried, clasping her hands together 
excitedly, "Mandy said you would separate us, 
but only for a little while. You remember the 
leaves came together again ?” 

"Aye, I recollect,” he answered, "and ’t was me 
separated ye, after all, though ’t was no wish of 
mine, dear.” 

"Oh, I know that. Daddy. Sure you could n’t 
have known, but suppose it comes true. Daddy? 
Suppose — ” 

A knock at the door interrupted her. 

360 


BEBEE DISAPPEARS 

^'Mr. Stetson sent this up to you, sir,^^ said the 
boy, handing Mr. O’Neil a note. ''He says, 
please, sir, what does it mean?” 

Mr. O’Neil took the letter and putting on his 
glasses read it to himself. 

"That will do,” he said to the boy. "I ’ll see 
Mr. Stetson later.” 

When the boy was gone he handed the note to 
Nora and she read as follows : 

“Please send any letters for Eleanor O’Neil to the Gen- 
eral Delivery. Washington, D. C.” 

" ’T is Bebee wrote that !” exclaimed Nora, her 
eyes wide with excitement. 

"So I was thinkin’,” agreed Mr. O’Neil, "but 
what can she be wantin’ with your letters ?” 

"I don’t know. Daddy,” said Nora, walking 
restlessly about the room. "I don’t know what it 
can mean, but I ’m sure it ’s something, and — 
and — ” she stopped out of breath. 

"I can’t make it out,” said Mr. O’Neil, puzzled. 

"Nor I,” agreed Nora, "but one thing is cer- 
tain. Bebee is in Washington, and we must do 
something right away.” 

361 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

''But what?’' asked Mr. O’Neil with a wrinkled 
brow. 

Another knock on the door broke in upon their 
talk and this time a telegram was handed to Mr. 
O’Neil. 

"Listen to this, Nonie!” he cried, as he glanced 
through it, 

“Patricia Cochrane is found have her in Washington 
awaiting instructions. Walker.** 

"Hurray! Nonie darlin’. Little Bebee’s found 
at last!” 

For a moment Nora could n’t speak; then with 
a cry of joy she threw her arms around her father 
and the two danced up and down. 

"I ’ll send for her at once,” he said, starting to 
the table with the intention of writing out a mes- 
sage. 

"Daddy!” exclaimed Nora running to him, 
"why can’t we go to her ? Sure, I ’d be crazy 
waitin’.” 

Mr. O’Neil looked down at her thoughtfully. 

"Now that ’s not such a bad idea, either,” he 
362 


BEBEE DISAPPEARS 


agreed. ‘They ’re wantin’ me in Washington 
these last ten days, and I was lettin’ ’em want.” 

He turned to the boy energetically. 

“Get me an Appleton’s Railway Guide, and call 
Miss Nora’s governess and have William ready 
with the carriage and send a bell-boy and — and, 
hurry now. We ’re going to Washington on the 
next train.” 


363 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE LITTLE LADY IS FOUND 

I T was not until they were settled in the train 
and speeding across the dismal flats of New 
Jersey that Nora and her father again had an 
opportunity to sit quietly for a moment. From 
the instant the telegram had come until they 
reached the ferry-boat at Cortland Street it had 
been one mad rush against time ; but they caught 
the train, though William had galloped his horses 
through the streets at imminent risk of being ar- 
rested for reckless driving. 

Nora beamed upon every one. For the first 
time in many, many days her heart was light, and 
she could have sung with joy had -she not been so 
intent upon catching that first train to Washing- 
ton. 

Mr. O’Neil had requested Mr. Stetson to in- 
364 


THE LITTLE LADY IS FOUND 

form Lady Castleton on her arrival of the events 
which had taken place, with the suggestion that 
she should await their return to New York. He 
had also telegraphed the man Walker, who had 
sent the welcome message that he had found Pa- 
tricia, to meet them at the train, so that there 
would be no delay. 

Of course under all the excitement of finding 
the child again there remained the fact that Lady 
Castleton would take her away sooner or later, 
but Nora had been so anxious and unhappy that 
the prospect of seeing Beb& once more now put 
all other thoughts in the background. 

‘‘And to think that message should have come 
while we was talkin’ over that fortune!” said 
Mr. O’Neil. “Sure it almost makes one be- 
lieve there’s somethin’ in these teacup prophe- 
cies.” 

“Of course there is,” declared Nora. “It was 
as plain as plain, and — ” 

“Aye, that ’s so,” interrupted Mr. O’Neil 
thoughtfully. “And we ’ve found the child, 
praise be.” 


365 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

There was not much more to say to each other, 
so Mr. O’Neil took up the newspaper he had 
bought and opened it. 

T is the first chance I Ve had to see what ’s 
goin’ on for this long while,” he said. '^Some- 
how I had n’t the heart to read — but now — well, 
let ’s see what ’s become of Sherman?” 

The paper rustled and Nora turned and looked 
out of the window, seeing little but happy in a 
sort of dreamy expectation. 

“Here ’s good news !” she heard her father ex- 
claim. “Old Uncle Billy ’s safe. He ’s come out 
after all these weeks since he disappeared after 
Atlanta. ’T is a grand march he has made to the 
sea and he ’s cut the South in the middle. It says 
here that the Johnny Rebs claim he carried dupli- 
cate bridges with him, so it made no odds whether 
they burned those ahead of him or not. Some 
says he carried duplicate tunnels as well, but I ’m 
kind o’ doubtin’ that.” 

He chuckled to himself, finding great pleasure 
in being able to joke a little with Nora. 

366 


THE LITTLE LADY IS FOUND 

''Do ye think she 'll be changed any, Daddy?" 
asked Nora with a smile for the joke, but her 
thoughts far ahead in Washington. 

"Not a bit of it," he answered. "But as I was 
about to tell ye, Sherman gave the country a 
scare, and I 'm not knowin' another man who 
could have done the trick, no, not Gineral Grant 
himself. His army moved in four colyumns, cov- 
erin' sixty miles of country where every man, 
woman an' child was hostile to 'em, an' he took 
'em safe to Savannah, an’ soon he 'll have the city 
itself, if he has n’t took it already." 

"She 'll be glad to see us, Daddy," said Nora 
beaming at the prospect. 

"She will that. 'T is a loyal, lovin’ heart she 
has. But can ye think of nothin’ else, Nonie 
dear ? ’T will make the time seem so long. 
Don’t ye be takin’ any interest in the war? Sure, 
there are things goin’ on that 'll surprise ye." 

"There ’s only one thing I can think of. 
Daddy," she answered, but her face was happy. 
They sped across New Jersey between frozen 
367 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

fields of scrubby woods, and crossed the Dela- 
ware at Trenton, then on, through Pennsylvania 
till they reached Philadelphia. 

Here they made a lengthy stop and changed 
cars, and, just as they were expecting the train 
to start, a messenger-boy came into the car call- 
ing, ‘‘Mr. O’Neil! Mr. Timothy O’Neill” at the 
top of his lungs. 

Mr. O’Neil halted him and, after identifying 
himself by letters in his pocket, a telegram was 
given to him which he read hastily and handed to 
Nora, while every one in the car looked on with 
keen curiosity. 

“Hold up 1” he called to the boy who was start- 
ing away. “There ’s an answer must be sent.” 

“Hurry, sir,” replied the boy, handing Mr. 
O’Neil a blank. “The train ’s about to go,” and 
as if to emphasize his warning the car gave a 
preliminary jerk. 

Mr. O’Neil wrote as fast as he could, but the 
train was drawing away from the platform when 
he finished. Taking a greenback from his pocket 
he gave that and the message to the boy. 

368 


JHE LITTLE LADY IS FOUND 

‘‘Ye Ve no time to waste/' he cried. “Send 
that, and keep the change." 

“Thank you, sir," said the boy, seeming now 
not to be in the slightest hurry. “Thank you," 
he went on, taking off his cap with great delibera- 
tion and putting the message inside it. 

“Hurry and get off the train," commanded Mr. 
O'Neil nervously. “Do ye want to be killed?" 

The boy looked at him indulgently. 

“Give me regards to Father Abraham when ye 
get to Washington," he said coolly, and then, 
without any appearance of haste, he strolled to 
the front of the car and swung off in a cloud of 
dust. 

Mr. O'Neil leaned out of the window. 

“The limb!" he exclaimed when he pulled his 
head inside. “He 's goin' up the platform whis- 
tlin' ‘We are cornin'. Father Abraham,' as if he 'd 
just hopped out of a baby-carriage. 'T is twenty 
times a day, Nonie, I bless the hour you was born 
a girl and not a boy." 

“But what does this telegram mean?" she 
asked, holding the paper out to him. 

369 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

‘T Ve no idea/’ he answered slowly, and then 
he read it aloud thoughtfully, ‘‘ 'Man here insists 
must have address of Eleanor O’Neil wire in- 
structions. Stetson.’ I don’t make it out and 
they may have mixed it up in some way. No 
doubt ’t is me they want. At any rate I sent 
them the name of our hotel in Washington.” 

"And will the man come to Washington?” 
asked Nora. 

"How can I tell?” her father answered. 
"There ’s hundreds of fellas tryin’ to sell the gov- 
ernment all sorts of things all the time. They 
bother the life out of me. This fella may be 
wantin’ to furnish the army with a patent self- 
washin’ shirt. Don’t worry your head over it, 
me dear. I don’t. If I did I ’d be gray-headed 
before me time.” 

"But you are gray-headed. Daddy,” said Nora 
with a laugh. 

"Ah ha!” laughed Mr. O’Neil, "that sounds 
like me old Nora again.” 

As they neared their journey’s end Nora could 
hardly wait for the train to get in. Her eager- 

370 


THE LITTLE LADY IS FOUND 


ness was pathetic. She had to hold tight to her 
father to keep from jumping up and down with 
impatience. 

^'Oh, the old train goes so slowly!’’ she com- 
plained time and again. ^'Will we never get 
there?” 

"‘Soon now, dearie. Soon now,” Mr. O’Neil 
would answer and she would sit quiet for a while, 
clutching his arm convulsively. 

At last they reached Washington and the train 
stopped with a thump, but it had hardly come to a 
standstill before Nora was out on the platform 
looking up and down for Bebee. 

“I can’t see her. Daddy,” she cried as her 
father stepped down beside her. 

“Perhaps they are outside,” Mr. O’Neil sug- 
gested, and they hurried as fast as they could up 
the long platform. 

Halfway to the front of the station they were 
stopped by a shrewd-looking young man who 
took off his hat and bowed. 

“Mr. O’Neil?” he questioned. 

“Yes, that ’s me,” was the answer. 

371 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
’m Walker, sir, got your telegram and — ’’ 
‘'Where is she?’’ demanded Nora. “Oh, tell 
me where she is.” 

The man looked down at her in surprise. 

“You mean the little girl ?” he asked. 

“Sure! You’ve got her, haven’t ye?” Mr. 
O’Neil’s voice was harsh and impatient. 

“Oh, yes, sir. She ’s waiting at Willard’s 
Hotel with her black mammy,” the man an- 
swered. 

“Oh, Mammy ’s there too!” exclaimed Nora. 
“Why did n’t you bring her here with you?” 

“I didn’t understand that she was to come,” 
the man replied. “I thought you just wanted me 
to meet the train.” 

“Well, it ’s all right if she is at the hotel,” said 
Mr. O’Neil, “but I ’ll feel safer when I see her. 
She’s apt to disappear, that child is, when ye 
least expect it.” 

“Oh, she ’ll be there, Mr. O’Neil,” said the man, 
reassuringly. “No fear of her going away. 
She seems very glad to have been found.” 

372 



Neither of them resembled . . . Behee or her Mammy” 
















THE LITTLE LADY IS FOUND 


^Well, I hope so/’ Mr. O’Neil began, but Nora 
cut him short. 

''Come! Hurry!” she cried. "Let’s get a 
hack right away.” 

They drove through the squalid outskirts of 
Washington, and along mud-filled streets whose 
plank sidewalks were lined with shacks and 
hovels standing side by side with substantial 
wooden houses. But Mr. O’Neil and Nora 
hardly observed these things. They were intent 
upon reaching the hotel as soon as possible and 
when at length they arrived, they wasted no time 
in preliminaries. 

"Take us directly to the child,” commanded 
Mr. O’Neil. "I ’ll see about our rooms later.” 

They climbed one flight of stairs and then tra- 
versed a long corridor to the extreme rear of the 
building. 

"They ’re here,” said Walker, knocking at the 
door of a room. 

"Come in,” came the summons. 

With a little cry of delight and expectation, 
375 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


Nora sprang in front of the men and, opening 
the door, ran into the room. 

‘Where are you, dearie?’^ she called joyously, 
and then stopped abruptly. 

Before her, sitting in a chair, very erect and 
quite prim, was a sweet-faced little girl and be- 
hind the chair stood a kindly old darky woman, 
but neither of them resembled, in the faintest 
degree, Bebee or her mammy. 

Nora looked around the room wildly, then faced 
the child. 

‘Who are you?’’ she demanded in a voice, 
strange even to her own ears. 

The child rose to her feet and made a little 
courtesy. 

“I am Patricia Cochrane,” she said sweetly. 

With a cry of pain and disappointment Nora 
turned and flung herself upon her father. 

“It’s all a mistake. Daddy! All a mistake! 
Take me away!” 


376 


CHAPTER XXVI 


MR. WALKER EXPLAINS 

M r. O’NEIL gathered Nora up in his arms 
and carried her out into the hall. 

‘Tind out where me rooms are/’ he ordered 
Walker, who had followed in a bewildered fash- 
ion ; and the secret agent, although he had no idea 
what it all meant, was swift to do the errand and 
was back very quickly with the keys. 

Her father carried Nora in and laid her on 
the couch. 

‘"Ye can go,” he said, in a dead level voice. 
^T ’ll see you later. Walker,” he added, and the 
man left the two alone. 

With the gentleness of a woman, Mr. O’Neil 
took off Nora’s hat and coat. Then, covering 
her with a quilt from his own bed, he drew up 
a chair and sat down beside her taking one of her 
hands and stroking it gently. 

377 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

He had no words of comfort. There was 
nothing he could find to say, but he hoped to ease 
the child's suffering by just being there with her. 
Nora lay perfectly numb ; her eyes were open but 
she saw nothing, though she knew that her daddy 
was beside her and once or twice gave the hand 
that held hers a slight pressure of appreciation, 
but the unexpectedness of the shock had stunned 
her and she could not even cry. 

As time went on, however, she began to re- 
cover somewhat and her thoughts took shape. 

‘"Daddy," she whispered, “it was a mistake." 

“Aye, me darlin’, a grievous mistake. The 
man 's a fool !" 

“How could he have taken that girl for 
Bebee?" she said, and laughed a little sadly at 
the thought. “She 's a little lady, but she does n’t 
look at all like — " She stopped as if the effort 
of talking was too much for her. 

“How about bed, darlin’?" her father asked. 
“Shall your old daddy put you to bed like he used 
to do when ye was but so high?" He held his 
hand a foot or two above the floor. 

378 


MR. WALKER EXPLAINS 


Nora sat up suddenly on the sofa and pushed 
the tumbled hair back from her face with both 
hands. 

‘1 don’t want to go to bed, Daddy,” she said. 

would like to talk to that Mr. Walker. I ’d 
like to know how he made the mistake.” She 
paused a moment. ‘^But, Daddy,” she broke out 
suddenly, ''the child said her name was Patricia 
Cochrane ! That ’s the girl Lady Castleton ’s 
lookin’ for, and — and — it ’s we Ve made the mis- 
take, Daddy!” she exclaimed, and rising to her 
feet she ran across the floor and pulled at the bell 
rope feverishly. 

"What are you thinking of, Nonie?” Mr. 
O’Neil asked, not liking this feverish energy on 
her part. 

"I want to see Mr. Walker,” she said, and a 
moment later when the boy came to the door, she 
gave her order in no uncertain manner. It 
seemed as if a new Nora had suddenly come into 
existence — a Nora full of a new idea that held 
out a promise of unexpected happiness. 

The detective came in, looking wholly bewil- 
379 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

dered at the new turn o£ events. He couldn’t 
invent a theory to fit the case, so he had made 
what provision was necessary for the comfort 
of his charges and then awaited a summons from 
Mr. O’Neil. 

He took a chair with the air of a man who is 
ready to be cross-examined and who, though he 
did n’t like it particularly, knew that it was a part 
of what he was paid for and was resigned. But 
there was nothing of that kind awaiting him. 

‘Won’t you please tell us, Mr. Walker, where 
you found the little girl?” Nora asked, seating 
herself opposite him and looking up into his 
face. 

“ ’T is n’t much of a story, miss,” he answered. 
“It took a good while to find her, but that ’s only 
on account of the war. People down in Georgia 
either talk a good deal more than they should or 
they don’t say anything, these days. You see 
the majority of them were secessionists all right, 
but there are some who believe in the Union and, 
as a matter of fact, they ’ve been having a little 
380 


MR. WALKER EXPLAINS 

war of their own down there that no one hears 
very much about outside of the State.” ^ 

‘Wes, I understand,” Nora interrupted, pa- 
tiently, “but what we would like to know is, are 
you sure this little girl is Patricia Cochrane?” 

“Oh, there 's not the least doubt about that,'" 
Mr. Walker affirmed. “I went first to Carstairs, 
Georgia, hoping to learn something of the child’s 
father, but he had joined the Southern army, 
leaving the little girl with the Dennis Burke you 
heard of. Now Burke was a Union man, and 
that ’s enough to tell you that he was well hated 
in Georgia, or anywhere else in the South for 
that matter. No one had a good word to say for 
him. They called him a traitor to his State and 
drove him out of the town. And, not satisfied 
with that, they burned his house down, scattered 

1 The greatest sufferers from the war were the Union sympa- 
thizers in Tennessee and Northern Georgia whose homes were 
ravaged by volunteers and by the rebel army. 

The above is information gained from a history of the Civil 
War. However, there is something to be said on the other side. 
The Southern sympathizers who lived along the Hudson have 
their own tale to tell of ostracism, if not of actual abuse. — E. B. K. 

381 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


his plantation hands, and not a trace of his 
family could I come by for a long time.’’ 

''But the child! Tell me of her!” exclaimed 
Nora impatiently. 

"Well, I finally discovered that she had been 
taken in by some people called Rathbone,” Walker 
continued. "But they were suspected of having 
Northern sympathies, too, so they moved out 
very quietly to Mrs. Rathbone’s father’s place, 
about twenty miles across country and stayed 
there. They kept the Cochrane child with them, 
and you can understand they were n’t making any 
noise about it and were staying pretty well hid- 
den. That ’s what made it so hard to find them. 
But once I got on their track there was no fur- 
ther trouble and Mr. Rathbone gave me all the 
facts. There ’s no doubt that the child is Pa- 
tricia Cochrane, and if it had n’t been for the war 
we would have found her without the least diffi- 
culty.” 

"She seems to have been mixed up with a queer 
crowd,” said Mr. O’Neil thoughtfully. 

"It depends upon where you ’re living,” Walker 
382 


MR. WALKER EXPLAINS 


explained. ^‘This Burke, for instance, was out 
and out for the Union, so you can’t trust what 
they say of him in the South. That ’s the whole 
story. I thought you ’d like to have the child up 
here as soon as possible, so I wasted no time. I 
brought her old mammy along, thinking the little 
girl might need some attention I couldn’t give. 
She ’s a real little lady, and does what she ’s told 
without making any fuss about it.” 

They discussed the matter a little further, but 
Nora was plainly impatient for the man to be 
gone. 

It was arranged that he should take Patricia to 
New York on the first train in the morning and 
go directly to the Astor House to await Lady 
Castleton’s arrival. 

‘'She may be there before ye,” said Mr. O'Neil, 
“but if she is n’t, you stay till she comes. I ’ll 
send a message to Mr. Stetson.” And in a few 
minutes Mr. Walker left them. 

No sooner had the door closed than Nora 
turned excitedly to her father. 

“Where ’s that letter, Daddy?” she exclaimed. 

383 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


^What letter?” asked Mr. O'Neil, puzzled. 

'The one Bebee wrote from here,” she said, 
impatiently. 

"Oh, now I mind.” He fumbled in his pocket 
and brought it out. "Here it is,” he added, giv- 
ing it to her. 

"Please send any letters for Eleanor O'Neil to 
the General Delivery, Washington, D. C.,” she 
read slowly, then looking up at her father, she 
went on : "I don't know, quite, what it means or 
why she should want to get my letters, but 
Bebee 's here in Washington and she 's just our 
Bebee and not Patricia anybody.” 

Mr. O'Neil took the letter and scrutinized it 
carefully, beginning to feel something of the ex- 
citement Nora was showing. 

"I think there 's no doubt of that,” he said, 
guardedly, "but I 'm not going to be in any hurry 
to jump to conclusions again.” 

"But she must be here. Daddy,” Nora insisted, 
determined not to let him throw cold .water on 
her new hopes. "She must be here and we must 
find her.” 


384 


MR. WALKER EXPLAINS 


^'Oh, we 'll find her, dearie," he answered, 
‘'but 't will take time." 

“But she 's here in this city now !" exclaimed 
Nora. “Think of it. Daddy, right near to us, 
maybe, and I — I can't see her. Oh, Bebee, me 
dear, why did ye ever leave your Nonie?" 

The shock of her disappointment and the strain 
of the last week had told on her and the 
tears that had been held back began to flow 
again. 

“Now, Nonie dear, don't be cryin' when we see 
a break in the clouds," begged her father, patting 
her soothingly. “I 'll find her for ye, and never 
fear." 

“Ah, Daddy," she answered mournfully, “ye 
never were any good at findin' people." 

“Now don't be sayin' that," he replied, pre- 
tending that his feelings were much hurt. 
“Didn't I find little Patricia? And have ye 
been thinkin' what it means to dicover that 
Bebee isn't Miss Eileen's child?" 

“Yes, Daddy, I have," answered Nora, bright- 
ening perceptibly and drying her eyes. “Sure in 

385 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


a way ’t is something to be thankful for that we 
did n't find her, is n't it, Daddy?" 

'Tt is that !" he answered heartily. 'When we 
get the child, we 'll make sure to keep her, hey?" 

"Oh, if we only could!" exclaimed Nora. 
"Perhaps, Daddy, after all you can pay her 
father, or whoever owns her, to give her up. 
I did ask for a little slave, but 't is not a slave I 'm 
wantin' now, and 't would be worth somethin' big 
to have her always." 

"No money shall stand in the way of our havin' 
her, but we 'll talk of what we 'll be doin' in the 
mornin'. You 'd better be goin' to bed." 

" 'T is good advice," she agreed readily, lifting 
up her face to be kissed. "I 'll go and get a 
good rest. 'T is some comfort to know I 'm near 
her. Good-night, Daddy dear," and she smiled 
bravely. 

"Good-night, me darlin'," he replied, bending 
down and kissing her, " 't is the stout heart ye 
have, and please God ye 'll not be so sore disap- 
pointed again. Good night and to-morrow we 'll 
be startin' fresh." 


386 


CHAPTER XXVII 


A TRAITOR AND A RENEGADE 

T he next morning Nora and Mr. O’Neil 
made the acquaintance of little Patricia and 
saw her party safely into the bus as they went off 
to take the train to New York. 

‘^She ’s a real little lady,” said Nora, as they 
sat down to breakfast. 

‘'She is that!” returned Mr. O’Neil emphati- 
cally. “Sure she has the aristocratic way with 
her just like her mother, God bless her ! ’T is 
a comfort to me to know we found Miss Eileen’s 
chick for her.” 

“But we have some one else to find now,” said 
Nora, excitedly. “I ’ve been thinkin’. Daddy, 
how best to be lookin’ for her.” 

“And I ’m thinkin’ ’t would have been better 
had I left ye in New York,” he replied, noting 

387 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
with some apprehension her shining eyes and 
lack of appetite. 

‘T ’ll be eatin’ me breakfast right away,” she 
said, taking up a beaten biscuit and starting to 
munch it diligently. ‘'But do ye mind, Bebee 
will be cornin’ to the post office to see if the let- 
ters have been sent to her, and — and — ” 

“Now how do you make that out?” questioned 
her father. 

“Why, ’t is perfectly plain,” answered Nora. 
“What the child took me name for I don’t know, 
but she ’ll be lookin’ for an answer to her mes- 
sage to Mr. Stetson, and all I have to do is to 
wait at the post office till she comes. ’T is per- 
fectly simple.” 

“Aye, and she ’ll see ye first, and be off like a 
shot,” said Mr. O’Neil, shaking his head dubi- 
ously. 

“ ’T is an objection,” admitted Nora, “but 
could n’t we give the post office a hint not to let 
Bebee have any letters unless I was there to 
see ?” 

“I ’m afraid they ’d hardly mind ye, dearie,” 
388 


A TRAITOR AND A RENEGADE 

replied her father. ‘‘They Ve got a power of 
rules and they would n’t break ’em for a king.” 

“Sure and why not?” demanded Nora bristling. 
“It ’s my letters we ’re talking about. What 
right have they to give Nora O’Neil’s letters to 
any one else ?” 

Her father slapped the table. 

“Nonie, ye ’ve the grand head on your shoul- 
ders,” he replied. “They’re your letters, after 
all, and there ’s no reason why any other person 
who tries to obtain possession of ’em shouldn’t 
be held. ’T is as easy as rollin’ off a log, and no 
need of you nor any one else botherin’ to watch 
the post office. Leave it all to me and I ’ll ar- 
range that when Bebee goes for her letters they ’ll 
keep her till I come.” 

“Are ye sure they won’t let her get away?” 
Nora asked anxiously. “She ’s a cute little thing 
and can get around ’most anybody.” 

“Maybe ’most anybody,” Mr. O’Neil chuckled, 
“but depend upon it she can’t get around Uncle 
Sam.” 

As soon as breakfast was finished, Mr. O’Neil 

389 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

went away, while Nora waited in the hotel. She 
was very hopeful and tried not to be impatient, 
but she couldn’t help a sigh of disappointment 
• when her father returned at dinner-time without 
any news except that he had arranged to have 
Bebee detained if she appeared at the post office. 

Early in the afternoon Mr. O’Neil was off 
again and, though he suggested that Nora should 
take a drive about the city, she shook her head. 

'T ’d rather stay in. Daddy,” she answered. 

’T would be awful if she came and me not here.” 

So through slowly dragging hours she waited 
alone with a book in her lap which she made no 
attempt to read. 

A sharp knock set her heart beating with ex- 
citement. 

^'Come in,” she called, and a negro boy entered, 
leaving the door half open behind him. 

‘"A ge’men to see you, missy,” he said, showing 
all of his white teeth in a broad grin, as he 
handed her a card. 

She took it from the tray and read: 

‘‘Captain Dennis Burke.” 

390 


A TRAITOR AND A RENEGADE 


‘T will not see him/’ she cried imperiously, 
starting to her feet, but at that moment a man 
entered hurriedly. 

‘T beg your pardon,” he burst out, %nt I 
could n’t wait and, seeing the door open, I — I just 
came in. Where is she ?” he ended, glancing anx- 
iously about the room. 

Nora was far from pleased at this uncere- 
monious entrance, but as she scrutinized the man 
before her her resentment lost something of its 
keenness. He was obviously a gentleman, tall, 
handsome, and very blond, with extremely blue 
eyes set in a face burned brown by the sun. 

‘"He looks like a sailor,” was Nora’s thought, 
but aloud she said, ''Whom did you wish to see?” 

"Eleanor O’Neil,” he answered. 

"I am Eleanor O’Neil.” 

Captain Burke smiled down on her genially, 
but he was evidently a little perplexed. 

"Well, at any rate, you are not the Eleanor 
O’Neil I ’m looking for,” he protested mildly. 
"Please tell me where she is?” he added with 
some impatience. 


391 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


^T ’m the only Eleanor O’Neil I know,” she 
answered stiffly, not at all understanding what 
the man wanted of her. All that she knew of 
Dennis Burke was very much against him. Mr. 
Walker, the detective, had said his neighbors had 
driven him out of the town and burned his home, 
but worse than this, the mere mention of his 
name had caused Bebee to flee from those who 
loved her best. Nora made up her mind not to 
be deceived by his pleasing looks and kindly man- 
ner. 

“You know this is very serious,” Captain 
Burke remarked. “Are you the Eleanor O’Neil 
who lives at the Astor House in New 
York?” 

“Yes,” answered Nora, nodding. 

“And was it you, who received Mr. Stetson’s 
telegram on the train at Philadelphia?” 

Again Nora nodded and Captain Burke’s face 
fell. 

“Then may I ask,” he went on, putting his hat 
down on the marble topped table and fumbling 
in his pocket, “why it was you sent me this let- 
392 


A TRAITOR AND A RENEGADE 


ter?’’ and he took out an Astor House envelope 
without a stamp or post-mark which he handed 
to the puzzled girl opposite him. 

‘T never sent you a letter in my life !” she ex- 
claimed. 

‘Tt is signed with your name,” the gentleman 
declared significantly. '‘You ’d better read it.” 

Nora drew forth a folded paper and with it 
one of the small photographs of Bebee, and at 
once she was on her guard. Captain Burke was 
looking for the child. That was clear now, and 
Nora did not mean to help him find her. Indeed 
she was determined to shield Bebee from this 
dreaded man at whatever cost, but a glance at the 
opening line of the little note brought a shock, 
and she read it through with increasing bewilder- 
ment. 

"My dearest Papa — The house is all burned 
down and I am named O’Neil and live in New 
York at the Astor House with Uncle Tim so 
don’t go back to Georgia for they will hurt you 
but come to see me. I have been working hard 
393 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

to learn to write so I could send you this and I 
will always love you even if you are a reniged 
and a tratore. Your loving little Eleanor. 

‘T.S. This picture is so you will know me.” 

*'How did you get this?” asked Nora when 
she finished. 

‘Tt was put into one of those needle-cases, or 
'housewifes' as they call them, that were sent out 
to the soldiers,” answered Captain Burke. ^The 
address requested, as you doubtless know, that 
it be passed from hand to hand until it reached 
the father of the child whose picture was en- 
closed. The letter at that time was in a smaller 
envelope. But what object did you have in writ- 
ing it ?” he added insistently. 

‘T did not write it,” replied Nora shortly. 

"'But you know who did ?” Captain Burke said 
with a keen glance at her. 

Nora considered the situation a moment be- 
fore she spoke again. Here was an entirely un- 
expected complication. This man was Bebee’s 
father. There was no doubt of that, but he was 
394 


A TRAITOR AND A RENEGADE 


a renegade and a traitor, for the child had writ- 
ten so herself, and Nora had no intention of help- 
ing him, in spite of his blue eyes and winning 
smile. 

‘"Yes,” she said at length. ‘'Yes, it was Bebee 
who wrote the letter, but I don’t know why she 
signed my name.” 

‘Tt ’s her own name,” explained Captain 
Burke. ‘T never called her Bebee after — when 
she was the only Eleanor. Where is she?” he 
ended abruptly. 

‘T don’t know,” Nora answered. “She went 
away from us about a month ago. We could n’t 
find her again, though we did everything.” 

“Went away from you?” cried Captain Burke. 
“Where was Mammy? She would never have 
left the child out of her sight.” 

“She never lived with us,” Nora explained. 
“It’s all mixed up. She and Bebee got sepa- 
rated during some riots in New York. It was 
a long time before we found Mandy.” 

“Who is Mandy?” asked Bebee’s father ab- 
ruptly. 


395 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

''Mandy Mandlebaum/' said Nora, equally im- 
patient. ‘'Bebee’s mammy/' 

Captain Burke threw back his head and laughed 
harshly. 

^'Mandlebaum !" he exclaimed. ‘'Mammy !" 

“Well, when we found her," said Nora, hur- 
riedly, for she was beginning to be very anxious 
to be rid of the man, “she didn’t want to stay 
with us. Perhaps Bebee has gone back to her." 

“Where is Mammy living? Do you never in- 
quire there?" 

“Oh, yes!" Nora acknowledged, “but she had 
moved." 

“She ’s got the child 1" declared the Captain 
positively. “Where did she live?" 

Nora gave him the address readily. She was 
quite willing that he should have all the informa- 
tion he would obtain in that quarter. Her one 
desire now was to have him leave Washington; 
then, if she once found Bebee, she planned to 
hide her safely away somewhere. Give her up 
she would not. 

“He ’s a renegade and a traitor," she repeated 
39b 


A TRAITOR AND A RENEGADE 


to herself, trying to stifle the feeling that she 
was being cruel in withholding any information 
she possessed. ‘‘Mr. Hale’s book thinks noth- 
ing is too great a punishment if you are false to 
your country, and I guess it ’s right.” 

The gentleman noted the address and con- 
sulted his watch. 

“You ’ll let me know if you find her,” sug- 
gested Nora cunningly. 

“I ’ll be glad to,” he said courteously. “I can’t 
stop now to thank you for the kindness I feel 
sure you ’ve shown my little girl or to hear all the 
details I ’m anxious to learn. I must go at once 
if I am to catch the first train to New York. I 
have no time to waste in my search, as my fur- 
lough is very short, but I hope to see you in the 
future and to make more suitable acknowledg- 
ment of my obligations to you.” He bowed and 
was gone. 

“He ’s a very polite spy,” gasped Nora, “and I 
almost like him ; but I don’t mean to forget he ’s 
a traitor. Anyhow, he shan’t have my Bebee if I 
can help it.” 


397 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 

She went back to the table, trying to still the 
uneasy feeling in her heart. For a moment 
there was uppermost in her thoughts a cause for 
anxiety other than Bebee. 

^‘Suppose some one were keeping me from 
Daddy?’’ she murmured, half aloud; and then to 
quiet her conscience, ^'But he ’s a renegade and a 
traitor. She says so herself.” 

She sat down again near the window her 
thoughts in such a whirl that many minutes 
passed without her realizing it. 

Suddenly she came to herself at the sound of 
much bustling in the hall as the door was flung 
open violently. 

‘T ’ve got her, Nonie!” came a shout, and with 
a cry of joy Nora darted forward and the two 
girls were hugged tight in each other’s arms, too 
full of happiness to speak. 

Mr. O’Neil stood over them, fairly beaming, 
and saying again and again, ’T was me that 
found her, Nonie. I picked her up at the post 
office. Sure, ye ’ll never be sayin’ now I ’m not 
good at findin’ people.” 

398 


A TRAITOR AND A RENEGADE 

A moment later Mammy came in somewhat 
out of breath from trying to keep up with Mr. 
O’Neil but with a wide smile on her kindly 
face. 

‘‘You’ll come ba,ck to live with us again?” 
was Nora’s first question. “I just can’t get along 
without you, dearie, I ’m that lonesome.” 

*'So lonesome, Nonie,” murmured Bebee me- 
chanically. 

“Didn’t you miss me at all?” coaxed Nora, 
and the words in her pretty Irish voice touched 
some chord in Bebee’s heart, for she suddenly be- 
gan to sob. 

“I cried myself to sleep every night,” she ac- 
knowledged, “but I can’t come back, because you 
would n’t want me if you knew.” 

“But I do know and I do want you,” inter- 
rupted Nora. “Your father is a traitor, but I 
don’t see how you could help it.” 

“Oh, don’t you, Nonie?” exclaimed Bebee. 
“Truly, don’t you? Why all the little girls down 
South would n’t play with me because of it and, 
though I put my head up in the air higher than 
399 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


they did when they were looking, I cried when 
they could n’t see me,” she confessed. 

Nora patted her lovingly. 

‘They were horrid girls!” she declared vehe- 
mently. 

“No, they were n’t. Zaidee Taliafero was just 
as sweet as she could be, but when the Boys in 
Gray came into town and I was the only little 
girl without the Stars and Bars and did n’t throw 
any flowers they all acted as if I was n’t there.” 

“But, why?” asked the puzzled Nora. 

“I — I was a ’zample,” answered Bebee hesi- 
tatingly. “They were showing every one how to 
treat the enemies of the State.” 

“Did they burn your house down as an ex- 
ample?” asked Nora seriously. 

“No,” Bebee answered, “they only let it burn. 
I mean no one would help put it out. It was 
after my papa had left. He had to go,” she 
hastened to say, answering Nora’s unspoken 
question, “for they meant to put him in their 
army and not let him get away. Something like 
they did to Mr. Nolan in The Man without a 
400 


A TRAITOR AND A RENEGADE 


Country/ I reckon/’ she explained shame- 
facedly. 

‘Was it the man with the hooked nose who set 
fire to your house?” 

‘‘Yes/’ said Bebee. 

“And you will come back to us?” Nora pleaded 
anxiously. 

Bebee considered this carefully. 

“Does Uncle Tim want me?” she asked at last, 
with a glance in his direction. 

“He does,” Nora answered positively. “He ’s 
been most as lonesome for you as I have.” 

“Then I ’ll come,” agreed Bebee gladly. “But 
what are we going to do with Mammy?” 

“We ’ll take her, too,” said Nora, who would 
have cheerfully agreed to furnish a home to a 
sacred white elephant if she could have had 
Bebee on no other conditions. “And now do go 
in and let Mammy put on your green dress. I 
made Mam’selle tuck it in, thinking you ’d need 
it,” and Nora led her and the old colored woman 
into the adjoining room. “I ’ll be there in just a 
minute,” she ended, as she ran back to her father, 
401 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 
throwing her arms about his neck in an ecstasy 
of joy. 

''Oh, Daddy!’’ she cried, "I ’m so happy!” 

" ’Tis easy to see that,” said Mr. O’Neil, re- 
turning her hug. 

"But we must get away from here at once,” 
Nora went on hurriedly. "Bebee can’t stay here, 
you know. ’T is best, I ’m thinkin’, that we 
should have that little house we ’ve been talkin’ 
of right off and not wait till the war is finished. 
If we could go out to the country somewhere and 
change our name to Smith, or even Jones, 
why — ” 

"Now what are you talkin’ about?” interrupted 
Mr. O’Neil, wholly bewildered. "Is it me change 
me name? And what for, may I be askin’?” 

"So that he can’t find us, of course,” cried 
Nora. "He ’ll take Bebee from us. Daddy.” 

"Who would take her?” demanded Mr. O’Neil. 

"Dennis Burke, the traitor!” exclaimed Nora, 
her voice raised from excitement. 

Their talk had been so vehement that a knock 
had passed unheeded, but even as Nora spoke 
402 


A TRAITOR AND A RENEGADE 

Captain Burke opened the door and heard every 
word. 

^'Dennis Burke a traitor he cried as he strode 
into the room. 'Ts it you who put that idea into 
little Eleanor’s head?” 

For a moment there was an awkward silence, 
then Captain Burke,, controlling himself with an 
effort, spoke more calmly to Mr. O’Neil. 

‘T missed the train to New York and came 
back to try to thank you, sir. Now I am doubly 
glad I did, because it gave me the chance to hear 
what your daughter has just said. She talks 
like a secessionist, but I cannot believe that a 
Union man like you will condemn me for siding 
with the North.” 

‘‘You mean that you are not a traitor and a 
spy?” faltered Nora. 

‘T mean that I was called both, and many an- 
other ugly name, because I was a Union sympa- 
thizer in a secession State,” Captain Burke ex- 
plained almost passionately. ‘T mean that, after 
I went away, the people I thought I could trust 
turned their backs on my little, daughter. They 

403 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


would n’t raise a hand to save my property when 
a personal enemy used the cloak of party feeling 
to excuse his destroying it. I mean that Mammy 
took Eleanor to Charleston only to be told that 
there was no roof there to cover a Union sympa- 
thizer’s child and that those of attainted blood had 
better go up North where they belonged.” 

‘^But you were safe somewhere while Bebee 
was without a roof,” said Nora disdainfully. 

‘T was with Grant and Sherman in Missouri 
and Tennessee,” replied Captain Burke. ‘'Some- 
times I had canvas over my head, but never a roof 
that Eleanor could have shared.” 

"No, no,” protested Nora in a tone of despair. 
"Don’t say you are a Union soldier. You are a 
traitor. Bebee thinks so.” 

"Then, baby as she was, she must have taken 
to heart some of the insults aimed at me down 
South. I ’m no traitor even to my State, for I 
asked to be sent to Grant in Virginia rather than 
to go with Uncle Billy Sherman on his march to 
the sea.” 


404 


A TR.\ITOR AND A RENEGADE 


Nora turned from him, struck to the quick, 
and opened the door to her bedroom. 

''Bebee!” she called, ‘'your father is here.” 
Then she threw her arms around Mr. O’Neil. 
“Daddy ! Daddy !” she sobbed, “I ’m so sorry he 
isn’t a renegade, for you are all I have left 
now.” 

At her words Bebee had run in. 

“Papa ! Papa !” she cried at sight of Captain 
Burke, and flung herself on him. 

Mammy followed more slowly. 

“Am dat you, Marse Denny!” she exclaimed. 
“You ain’t no ghost, is you? Oh, glory be, our 
troubles is over if you-all is come back.” 

Explanations of every sort were now in order 
and soon the party were occupied in clearing up 
obscure points. 

“What I want to know,” Mr. O’Neil ques- 
tioned Bebee, “is why you never told us your 
name?” 

“Mammy said not to,” Bebee answered 
“When we said ‘Burke’ down South they asked, 

405 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


^Any relation to Dennis Burke, the traitor ?’ and 
then they wouldn’t do anything for us. Even 
the shopkeepers would n’t sell us food — and when 
they burned New York because we were there — ” 
‘^Burned New York,” asked her father in as- 
tonishment, 

‘"Yes,” answered Bebee wisel}^ ^'what they 
called the Draft Riots, but I knew it was all be- 
cause of us. Then they lost us for a while, but 
when the Astor House was set on fire this year — 
"'My child!” ejaculated Mr. O’Neil. "You 
never have been thinkin’ that all those awful hap- 
penings were aimed at your little head?” 

"You don’t know,” said Bebee. "It was al- 
ways that Mr. Hitchens who burned our house 
down, down South. I saw him every time.” 
Captain Burke started to his feet. 

"The cur !” he cried, and then, controlling him- 
self with an effort he went on, "Eleanor, your 
father is no traitor and you can take his word 
that it was not on your account. This man is an 
enemy of your country, not of yours, so you can 
cease to fear him.” 


406 


A TRAITOR AND A RENEGADE 


‘‘Oh, he won’t come back to New York any 
more,” said Bebee contentedly. “I ’m quite sure 
he ’ll be afraid of Mr. Stetson.” 

“What became of all the bonds I gave to you, 
Mammy?” asked Captain Burke, turning to the 
old colored woman. 

“I ’s got ’em, sir,” said Mammy. “I ’s mighty 
sorry to tell you, Marse Denny, they ain’t no 
good! No one won’t take ’em for chickens or 
vegitibles. They has no manneh of respect for 
the writin’ on ’em. The nex’ time you goes 
away, Marse Denny, you leave me a stockin’ full 
of good, hard, two-bit pieces if you has n’t got 
gold.” 

Mr. O’Neil and Captain Burke exchanged 
glances of understanding. It was of no avail to 
attempt to explain to Mammy that she could 
have had plenty of money to care for herself and 
Bebee. 

“We were going back to Georgia to dig up the 
silver Mammy buried,” Bebee told them. “She 
insists that I must be educated like a lady, and 
washing is such a slow way to make a fortune.” 

407 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


‘^And to think/’ said Mr. O’Neil to Captain 
Burke, ^'that I had the sharpest men in the coun- 
try lookin’ for ye, and ’t is a little child finds ye 
after all.” 

Captain Burke seemed surprised. 

‘'Looking for me?” he questioned. 

“To be sure,” answered Mr. O’Neil. “Be- 
cause of little Patricia Cochrane, of course.” 

“Do you know Patricia ?” asked Bebee in tones 
of astonishment, while the gentlemen talked to- 
gether. “ ’T was she gave me the chain Lady 
Castleton has. She ’s wearing one of mine for a 
remembrance.” 

“Sure, I ’ll give you a better chain than that — 
but why did ye write to Mr. Stetson for me let- 
ters?” asked Nora, conscious of a little jealousy 
of Patricia, as she suddenly changed the subject. 

“I didn’t, Nonie, I wrote for my own,” said 
Bebee, surprised. 

“I forgot,” acknowledged Nora. “You are 
‘Eleanor,’ too. Your father called you that.” 

“But you ’re ‘Nora,’ ” said Bebee, puzzled in 
turn. 


408 


A TRAITOR AND A RENEGADE 


*'Jvist as you are "Bebfe/ ’’ smiled Nora, then a 
sudden thought came to her, and she turned to 
Captain Burke with anxiety in her face. 

"'You — you said you were a soldier, didn’t 
you?” 

"Yes,” answered the Captain. 

"Well, you can’t be takin’ the child to the war 
with you,” exclaimed Nora. "They don’t have 
young ladies’ seminaries in the army, do 
they? So won’t you please be leavin’ her with 
us?” 

Captain Burke looked at Mr. O’Neil with a 
smile of interrogation. 

"Ye need n’t be expectin’ me not to second that 
invitation,” said the latter with a twinkle in his 
eye. "I ’d be disowned did I hint at anything 
else.” 

"You ’ll leave her with us,” said Nora fairly 
glorified, as she read consent in the Captain’s 
face. "Sure you ’re the nicest man ! I liked ye 
even when I could n’t bear ye.” 

"And when the war is over an’ it won’t be long 
now, the poor byes in the South is almost at their 
409 


THE LOST LITTLE LADY 


last ditch, I 'm hopin’ you ’ll be settlin’ in New 
York,” said Mr. O’Neil. 

‘'And if ye do,” interrupted Nora, “you must 
tell me where you ’re going to live and I ’ll beg 
Daddy to buy the next door on both sides and live 
in it.” 

The gentlemen laughed heartily at this, but Mr. 
O’Neil said gently: 

“I was goin’ to say, that when the war was 
over I ’m hopin’ our love for Bebee and hers for 
us will be makin’ one family of the two.” 

“I think it will have to. Papa,” Bebee put in, 
gravely. “Uncle Tim needs two girls to take 
care of him.” 

“And, Daddy,” said Nora, unutterably happy, 
“remember my fortune? How it said I would 
never be parted for long from my best friend, 
who would have my name.” 

“Aye, that ’s so,” agreed Mr. O’Neil. 

“And I did n’t get my wish either,” said Nora, 
suddenly remembering. Then she looked at 
Captain Burke. “But I ’m glad of that !” she 
declared. 


410 


























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